


Can't Fool Me

by emma1234



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom Louis, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff, Frat Boy Harry, Hand Jobs, M/M, Minor Violence, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Smut, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-11 10:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 30,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11712921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emma1234/pseuds/emma1234
Summary: “I hate frats,” Louis repeats for what feels like the millionth time.“Yes, I’ve heard, once or twice or every day for the past three years,” Liam says. His careful tone reminds Louis of how his mom always sounds when one of his siblings is on the brink of a tantrum.Louis glances speculatively at Liam’s frat brothers, who are still huddled together and chatting, with the exception of the one who’s looking in Louis’ direction. Maybe Louis shouldn’t rule out a tantrum. While making a scene wouldn’t actually free him from fraternity nonsense in the future, it would at least be entertaining.AU where Louis hates fraternities and would never be into a frat boy. And one of these things is definitely not a lie.





	1. Can't Fool Me

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter one is the completed fic. Chapter two is a drabble that was requested by many people after reading the completed fic. Though it's technically a prequel, the drabble should only be read after the fic.

Louis’ last class of the day ends around three in the afternoon, but when he walks out the front doors of the brick building, he’s unsurprised to see Zayn leaning against the railing, dressed in pajama bottoms and his favorite sleep shirt. His hair is rumpled and there’s a cigarette in his mouth, but when he sees Louis, a lazy smile crosses his lips.

“You know,” Louis says, snatching another cigarette from the open box in one of the loose pockets of Zayn’s pajama pants. “It wouldn’t actually kill you to attend class on Fridays.” 

Zayn shrugs and blows a smoke ring in Louis’ face. 

“Went a little too hard with Thirsty Thursday last night,” he says by way of explanation. 

Louis shrugs the backpack off his shoulder and unzips it, reaching into its depths and feeling around old gum wrappers and pens until his fingers curl around a lighter. The texture of it feels different than it did when he threw it in last night, and when he pulls it out, he sees that it’s been covered with pink glitter heart stickers. 

Louis sighs and lights the cigarette with it anyway.

“Actually, Steve told me you and Gigi just got high and went to McDonalds,” he says, raising his eyebrows at Zayn.

Zayn shrugs again and drops his cigarette butt onto the front steps, grinding it into the stone with his foot. There are two more beside it, which suggests that he's been waiting here for a while.

“Well, I guess you could say my thirst was for McDonald's milkshakes, not booze,” Zayn explains. 

“Mr. Malik,” a voice says from behind them, and Louis starts chuckling before he even turns around. Their professor, James, is making his way out of the building. “You made it all the way to the front steps, but you couldn’t walk the distance down the hallway to the actual classroom. Better luck next time, yeah?”

Zayn gives James a bright smile and salutes. “Sorry, prof. My alarm didn’t go off.” 

James makes a show of checking his watch, confirming that yes, it is late afternoon, and then gives Zayn an unimpressed look.

“Tragic,” he deadpans, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. “Any fun plans for the weekend, boys? Maybe you’ll spend tonight and tomorrow night working on that essay you have due for my class next Wednesday.” 

James winks, and Louis can’t help but smile.

“I would, of course, but I’ve actually had it written for weeks,” Louis lies, giving James his most convincing smile. Zayn fishes another cigarette out of his pocket, clearly in the mood for chain-smoking whether their professor is standing in front of them or not.

“Same here,” he agrees, nudging Louis with his shoulder. “Finished it ages ago.” 

James just narrows his eyes.

“Sure. Well, enjoy your frat parties or whatever it is you kids do these days,” he says, clearly preparing to leave.

Louis makes a face. Quite frankly, he finds that assumption offensive. 

“I hate frats,” Louis says, unable to help himself, shaking his head with disgust. 

James’ eyes light up with recognition and then he laughs. “Oh yeah, I remember. You’re the one who called Ben Winston an uncultured swine last semester when he tried to compare fraternity brotherhood to army brotherhood.”

Zayn snorts, and Louis shrugs, unashamed. 

“Was I wrong?” He asks, taking another puff of his cigarette.

James clears his throat awkwardly and doesn’t respond, which is confirmation enough. “Anyway, I’m off. Got a date with my lovely wife and hopefully a margarita or five. Just enough to forget the trauma my lovely students have put me through over the last five days. See you on Monday, Mr. Tomlinson. And hopefully you too, Mr. Malik.” 

Louis and Zayn both smile and wave him off before looking at each other and sighing.

James is by far the coolest professor they’ve ever had, and that’s why they’ve both taken more than one class with him since beginning their college career, but that doesn’t mean they’re excited to write an essay for him.

Louis and Zayn both stand in silence for a few minutes, finishing their cigarettes. 

When a university police officer walks by and tells them that they’re still within twenty feet of the building and therefore in the non-smoking zone, Zayn looks like he’s about to pull out a tape measure, so Louis decides to step in and prevent that disaster from happening. Louis grabs Zayn's arm and yanks him down the steps, apologizing to the officer and leading Zayn in the direction of the quad. 

“You’re a pain in my ass,” Louis says, setting out toward an empty bench that will allow them to enjoy the sunshine until it’s a reasonable time for them to go to the dining hall for dinner. 

“Well, someone is,” Zayn says, giving a Cheshire cat grin around his cigarette. “Don’t think I don’t notice you waddling into our dorm at least twice a week.”

 _Three to four times a week, actually,_ Louis thinks to himself, but he wisely doesn’t voice that correction. 

Louis and Zayn haven’t been sitting on the bench for more than ten minutes when Louis sees a suspiciously large group of males making their way across the quad. They’re all roughhousing and talking at an obnoxiously loud level, and Louis can see that they’re also all wearing t-shirts with horrible color combinations and ΛΧΑ spelled out across the front. 

Louis would recognize those stupid letters from a mile away at this point. Lambda Chi Alpha is the largest and most popular fraternity on campus, and unfortunately, Louis has had far more interactions with members than he ever could have anticipated having when he came to this university. He’s about to have another one, if the look on one of the boy’s faces is anything to go by.

Liam pushes through the group and jogs toward Louis and Zayn.

“Hi, guys,” he says, a huge smile on his face. His frat brothers all come to a stop some ten feet away from Louis and Zayn’s bench, but Louis keeps his eyes trained on Liam.

“Hey, Payno,” he replies easily, getting to his feet and letting Liam pull him into a bear hug.

Liam and Louis grew up together across the state and became good friends when they both made the junior varsity soccer team in high school. Though Louis gave up the sport when he was a junior in favor of devoting more time to drama and Liam went on to become the captain of the varsity team, they somehow managed to stay good friends. 

When they both decided to attend the same university, Louis knew that Liam would want to join a fraternity, and that as a result, he was going to be dragged to fraternity events against his will. 

And of course, he wasn’t wrong. As a consequence, Louis has been to various philanthropy events and is begged to attend at least one frat party at Liam’s frat house each month.

If pressed, Louis will admit that Liam’s frat is not the sexist and homophobic nightmare he grew up assuming all fraternities are, thanks in part to how movies and television shows portray them. Liam wouldn’t have joined if it had been, of course, but Louis knows from the long conversations they had during rush that Liam saw that ugly side of several other fraternities on campus. 

Still, Louis has a reputation to uphold.

“I see you’ve come with your herd,” Louis says, gesturing vaguely in the direction of Liam’s frat brothers. Louis feels his phone buzz in his back pocket, but he ignores it.

“Always do,” Liam says with a smirk. He’s used to Louis bitching about fraternities by now, and he’s so good-natured that it doesn’t bother him, even when Louis attempts to intentionally rile him up. Louis rolls his eyes at Liam’s tone and finally directs his gaze toward the others.

Most of the brothers are just chatting with one another while Liam takes care of his business with Louis. Louis sees Niall, who somewhere along the way, became a close friend of his during his forced attendance at fraternity events over the years. There’s also Nick, Jeff, Josh, and a guy everyone nicknamed Zedd for a reason that Louis was far too drunk to comprehend at the time. And then there’s one frat boy who isn’t bothering to participate in the conversation with his brothers, and instead has his face turned in Liam and Louis’ direction. It’s Lambda Chi's president, Harry Styles.

He smiles when he catches Louis’ eye, but Louis just gives him a single judgmental eyebrow raise in response. Harry is undeterred, choosing to simply wiggle his eyebrows and lick his lips salaciously rather than get annoyed. Louis sighs deeply and turns his attention back to Liam.

“So what brings you to this side of the quad?” Louis jokes, watching out of the corner of his eye as Zayn lights up yet another cigarette. “Been missing me?”

Liam laughs and touches Louis’ shoulder affectionately. 

“Always, Lou,” Liam says. “And that’s why you’ve gotta come to our party tonight.”

Louis groans and throws himself down onto the bench beside Zayn.

“I hate frats,” Louis repeats for what feels like the millionth time.

“Yes, I’ve heard, once or twice or every day for the past three years,” Liam says. His careful tone reminds Louis of how his mom always sounds when one of his siblings is on the brink of a tantrum.

Louis glances speculatively at Liam’s frat brothers, who are still huddled together and chatting, with the exception of the one who’s looking in Louis’ direction. Maybe Louis shouldn’t rule out a tantrum. While making a scene wouldn’t actually free him from fraternity nonsense in the future, it would at least be entertaining.

Liam sighs, pulling Louis out of his thought process.

“Lou, I’ve barely seen you in ages and I miss you. Pretty please.” 

Liam pouts, and he looks like such a puppy that Louis can feel his defenses crumbling easily. 

“You and Gigi should come too, Zayn,” Liam adds, turning his attention to the sulking boy on the bench. Zayn rarely accompanies Louis to the frat events Liam forces him to attend, but this time, to Louis’ dismay, Zayn looks speculative.

“I thought you guys don’t usually like non-sorority girls going to parties and shit,” Zayn says, exhaling smoke. Though it blows in the opposite direction of Liam, Liam coughs dramatically anyway. Zayn ignores the reaction. 

“Some of the guys prefer to hook up with sorority girls, yeah, but Gigi’s with you, so it doesn’t matter. And anyway, you guys are friends of ours. The usual rules don’t apply.” 

Zayn shrugs. “Alright, why not? Gigi and I will be there. I’ll drag Louis’ ass with us too.”

Louis smacks Zayn on the arm, but Zayn just laughs.

“Oh please,” Zayn says. “You always get lucky at Lambda Chi parties, don’t you? Don’t pretend you hate it.”

Louis’ mouth drops open, but Zayn turns to Liam and grins at him like he’s in on the joke.

“Oh really,” Liam drawls, amused. 

“Fuck off,” Louis says, not bothering to dignify either of that accusation with a response. “I’ll come to your stupid frat party, but I’m not staying long, alright?”

Liam smiles like a puppy who's been given a treat. “Awesome, thanks, Lou! Beware of the jungle juice, by the way. Niall’s the one making it tonight.”

Louis laughs and nods. “I’ll keep that in mind. See you later, dude.”

Liam gives them both a wave and walks back over to his frat brothers. They stand there for another few seconds, presumably while Liam informs them that Louis, Zayn, and Gigi will be gracing the frat party with their presence later that night, and Louis lets his head drop onto Zayn’s shoulder. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket again.

“Back to the dorm?” Zayn asks, and Louis nods, letting his eyes fall closed for a few seconds. When he reopens them, Liam and his brothers are making their way back across the quad in the general direction of their frat house.

Louis gets up from the bench and rocks back and forth on his toes as he waits for Zayn to stamp out his last cigarette. When he does, they start walking toward the dining hall, which is only a few minutes away.

Louis’ classes today started at 9AM, and now that it’s late afternoon, he’s feeling sleepy. His plan for the next couple of hours is grabbing chicken nuggets from the dining hall, returning some text messages, and then napping until it’s time to get ready for the party. It’s an ideal afternoon, and Louis plans to enjoy every moment.

 

\--

 

“What’re you wearing?” Louis calls out the open door of his bedroom. He and Zayn share a suite dorm with another student named Steve Aoki, which means they have a common living area and kitchen, but individual bedrooms. Zayn’s bedroom door is on the opposite side of the living room from Louis’ bedroom, but to Zayn’s dismay, Louis’ voice is loud enough that it carries easily. 

“This,” Zayn says, entering Louis’ room. He’s wearing a t-shirt, black skinnies, and a leather jacket, and his hair is perfectly styled. Fifteen minutes ago, he was fresh out of the shower and wearing a towel, and now he looks like a model. Louis gives a pained moan and throws himself back onto his bed.

He’s still dressed in nothing more than his boxers and there are clothes strewn around the floor, making his already small and untidy bedroom look like thieves ransacked it.

“I have nothing to wear,” Louis says, opening one eye to look at Zayn. Zayn isn’t looking at him, instead choosing to examine the clothing lying around Louis’ room, so Louis closes his eye again and sighs.

A minute later, he gets hit in the face with fabric. 

“Ugh,” Louis says, taking care to ensure that he doesn’t end up with cotton in his mouth. He sits up and looks at the clothes Zayn threw at him. It’s just a t-shirt, jeans, and jacket combination, but Louis supposes it will get the job done. “Thanks,” he says, pulling the shirt over his head without hesitation and smoothing it under his fingers.

“For someone who didn’t even want to attend this frat party, you seem pretty damn concerned about what you’ll look like,” Zayn says. “Who’re you looking to impress?”

Louis rolls his eyes and gets up from the bed, putting his hands on Zayn’s chest and shoving him until he’s out Louis’ bedroom door and back in the living room.

“I might meet up with Steve at a bar later, you asshole,” Louis lies, rolling his eyes. “Every time you suggest that I would be into a frat boy, the knife slices deeper.”

Zayn laughs and puts his hands up, palms toward Louis in surrender.

“Alright, alright,” he says. “Gigi’s gonna be here in a few, so hurry the fuck up.” 

Louis responds by slamming his door in Zayn’s face.

 

\--

 

The Lambda Chi house is a large, brick, three-story home set in a residential area not far from the main campus. The neighbors aren’t the absolute worst for a fraternity to have — Louis’ heard horror stories about neighbors reporting frat boy behavior to the police on a frequent enough basis that the fraternity ends up getting kicked off campus — but the loud pounding of the bass and the flashing neon lights visible from the small basement windows are a dead giveaway of what’s going on inside. 

There are a bunch of freshman girls gathered in a group on the front lawn, clearly trying to work up the courage to approach whoever is delegated as informal bouncer while trying to make it look like they’re just waiting for more friends to show up, casual as can be. Louis can hear their nervous giggling as he walks up the path with Zayn and Gigi, and it takes every fiber of his being to resist making a bitchy comment.

The three of them veer off the path before reaching the front steps, walking around the bushes and down the side yard until they see the basement entrance, a poorly painted red door that Louis knows leads to creaky stairs, always covered with a sticky coating of beer and god knows what else. There’s a young man standing by the open door, currently turning down a group because it includes a guy from one of the other fraternities. 

Frat culture is ridiculous, in Louis’ opinion, but he knows how seriously these people take it. As the group who just got turned down makes their way by Louis, Zayn, and Gigi, Louis can hear the frat boy muttering about how Lambda Chi’s parties will never live up to Kappa Sigma’s. 

“Jesus Christ,” Louis can’t help but mutter, insulted that he has to share a campus with people this ridiculous. Louis loves a good drink and party as much as the next guy, but the useless competition of fraternities never ceases to amaze him, and not in a good way.

Gigi gives him an unsympathetic pat on the back.

“You asked for this fate when you befriended Liam Payne,” she says. 

“Ah, yes,” Louis says sarcastically. “My 13-year-old self definitely should have seen this all coming when I decided to talk to Liam at soccer practice.” 

Gigi and Zayn just laugh as she steps forward to take the lead with whoever is in charge of letting them in. When Louis identifies who it is that’s standing there, he’s grateful that Gigi went first.

“What the fuck are you doing here, douchebag?” Ben Winston spits, crushing the beer can in his hand like that’s supposed to be intimidating or something. 

“I could ask you the same question, actually,” Louis says calmly, forcing a serene smile that he knows will only anger Ben further.

“I’m in this frat, moron,” Ben says, and Louis’ grin widens. He loves when they take the bait.

“I meant in this very spot, Benjamin,” Louis explains, pointing to the ground at Ben’s feet. “Don’t they usually relegate these menial tasks to the newbies? Did your brothers forget you’re a senior because maturity-wise, you’re still in the fourth grade, or what?”

“You’re such a little prick,” Ben says angrily. 

Louis just gives him a smug smile and walks through the door to enter the basement, not bothering to wait for Ben’s okay. Gigi and Zayn follow after him, both snickering quietly at Louis and Ben’s exchange. 

Louis knows Ben would rather gouge both his eyes out than let him and his friends inside one of Lambda Chi’s parties, but thankfully, Liam is one of the most popular and well-respected members of the frat, so his word goes. The rest of the boys adore Louis as well, and the president of the frat would probably have a thing or two to say if Louis weren’t allowed in, but Louis doubts Ben is aware of that last little fact.

The basement is dark aside from the flashing neon lights of the obnoxious disco ball they installed late last year, and the music is blaring from a fairly sophisticated DJ setup over on the far side of the room. Louis wishes Steve was the one DJing tonight, but he’s doing a set at a bar nearby. 

The ceiling is unfinished, all exposed pipes that look like they could explode if a drunken partygoer touches them and beams where people abandon their solo cups and beer cans when they’re empty. 

The floor under their feet is in a far worse shape than the beer-sticky stairs — there’s a puddle of mystery liquids covering the entire surface of the floor, and it always makes Louis cringe when he steps through it. He’s glad he remembered to warn Zayn to wear inexpensive shoes tonight. If Zayn had ruined one of his beloved pairs of expensive shoes or boots, Louis and Gigi would never hear the end of it. 

The room is only about half-filled with people so far, as it’s still early in the night, but Louis knows that they’ll be packed into the space like sardines before long. 

Louis looks across the room at the table set up with beer and a giant dispenser that he’s sure is filled with jungle juice. Louis has watched Niall and some of the other boys make the jungle juice before, a sickly sweet mixture of juice, soda, and various flavors of cheap vodka from plastic bottles, and it's not a pretty sight. Louis doesn’t recognize the pledges behind the table who are in charge of handing out the alcohol, but then again, he didn’t really expect to.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Louis shouts over the music, gesturing in the general direction of the staircase that leads to the ground level of the house. Since there’s a dingy bathroom off the basement, the only people that are usually allowed on the main levels of the house during a party are members of the frat and the girls or guys they’re interested in. Louis is always allowed up there too, however, and tonight, so are Zayn and Gigi. 

Zayn and Gigi just shrug and follow after him as he weaves his way through the drunken students and walks up the stairs. 

Once they're on the ground level of the house, Louis leads his friends down the hallway to the living room, making the assumption that he’ll find who he’s looking for there. Sure enough, Liam and Niall are sitting on some of the hideous leather couches, along with some of the other older members of the frat. Louis sees Harry and Nick, among others, and he catches Harry’s eye for just a moment before focusing his attention on Liam and Niall.

“Lou!” Niall exclaims excitedly, getting up to tackle Louis in a hug. Louis can’t help but giggle and hug back, letting Niall rock him from side to side as Liam greets Gigi and Zayn.

“I’m so glad you showed,” Liam says when Niall finally releases Louis from his grip. 

“Anything for you, Payno,” Louis says. “Within reason, of course. I’m not up for a threesome tonight. Maybe tomorrow though.” 

Louis’ phone buzzes in his pocket once again, but since Louis already knows there will be a pouting emoji waiting for him, he doesn’t need to check it.

Liam rolls his eyes at Louis’ joke and ignores the laughter from Zayn, Gigi, and his frat brothers.

“You’re disgusting,” he says. 

Louis would love to bring up the fact that Liam is allowing people to dance around in a cesspool of alcohol and god knows what else in the basement right now and therefore has no right to call anyone else disgusting, but he sees the opening for another topic of conversation that takes precedence.

“Speaking of disgusting,” Louis says. “What’s Ben Fuckface Winston doing playing bouncer for the night? Have you established a brother ranking system based on IQ?” 

Louis hears a bark of laughter from about ten feet away, and when he glances over, he sees Harry with his hands clapped over his mouth, cheeks slightly red with embarrassment over his outburst. He’s obviously been eavesdropping, so Louis raises an eyebrow at him. Harry winks in response.

When Louis refocuses his attention on Liam, he sees him with his face in his hands.

“One of these days, Lou, I’m not gonna be able to hold Ben back when he kicks your ass,” Liam says, but there’s laughter in his voice. 

Louis just shrugs. In another universe, he might be concerned about what Ben could do to him, but in this one, he has a feeling he’ll be just fine. 

“He brought coke into the house yesterday,” Niall chimes in when Liam doesn’t answer Louis’ question. "Meaning like, cocaine, not the soda." 

Louis’ eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. There are frat houses on campus that are known for their penchant for hard drugs, but Lambda Chi is not one of them. Louis has never seen any of the guys doing anything harder than weed in the house or outside of it, and he knows that most of the older brothers are super strict with new pledges when laying down the rules about that type of thing. 

“Yikes,” Louis says finally. “That’s a pretty big deal. I’m surprised I didn’t hear about it.” 

Liam frowns and takes a sip from the beer in his hand before speaking. “Why would you have heard about it? We dealt with it in-house. We didn’t want to get him in trouble with the cops or anything, obviously, as long as he doesn’t do it again. We don’t fuck with that stuff here.”

Louis shrugs and glances to his right again, making eye contact with Harry briefly.

“Enough about Ben,” Niall says, clearly aiming to change the tone of the conversation. “Do you guys want some VIP jungle juice?” 

Louis smiles. 

“Why do you think we came up here?” He asks, and Niall high fives him.

By the time Niall has poured them each a solo cup of extremely tasty and ridiculously alcoholic juice, Louis can hear the music in the basement has gotten even louder, signaling that the party is in full swing. Niall insists that they all go downstairs to dance for a little while, and though most of his brothers say that they’re going to drink a bit more first, Louis, Zayn, and Gigi all follow him down. 

If Louis’ going to be forced to attend a frat party, he might as well make the best of it. 

 

\--

 

An hour or so later, Louis is the perfect level of tipsy. He only accepted one more cup of Niall’s jungle juice, knowing that Niall could unintentionally kill him with that stuff if he goes overboard, and then settles for drinking shitty beer. Last Louis saw, Zayn and Gigi were grinding on the dance floor downstairs, and since Louis had no desire to watch that continue, he wanders back upstairs.

There’s an intense game of beer pong being played at a table in the middle of the living room, the other furniture pushed off to the side, and Louis sees Nick and Harry facing off against Niall and Jeff.

“Lou!” Niall yells, face red and sweaty, and yeah, he’s definitely blackout drunk already. Louis laughs and lets Niall grab his hand and twirl him. “Come play with me! Jeff has been whining about how he needs to call his girlfriend for ages anyway,” Niall slurs, pulling Louis to stand on his side of the beer pong table.

It’s probably a bad idea to enable Niall by playing with him when what he really needs is a large glass of water and a full night of sleep, but Louis picks up the ball anyway. Louis is a beer pong champ, and since Niall will continue playing whether Louis is there or not, Louis might as well help him out. 

There are four cups left on Nick and Harry’s side of the table, and Louis closes one eye while he aims, throwing carefully and successfully landing the ball in the cup furthest to the left.

Louis grins and tries to high five Niall, but Niall misses his hand and starts laughing so hard that he falls to the floor. Louis reaches out a hand to help him out, but when Niall chooses to continue giggling from down there rather than allow himself to be helped up, Louis turns his attention to Nick and Harry, who are trying to figure out whose turn it is to drink the beer.

Louis knows that Harry is significantly less tipsy than Nick, so he’s not surprised when Harry is the one who downs the drink, maintaining eye contact with Louis while he does so.

“Are we sure that’s not apple juice in their cups?” Louis asks Niall, who’s still a giggling heap on the floor. 

“Awww, Lou,” Harry says sweetly. “You can have a taste if you need to double check.” He taps a finger to his lips, which are still wet from the beer, and smiles. 

Louis narrows his eyes. 

“If you want Louis to hate you less, I feel like you’re not doing yourself any favors with comments like that,” Nick says, nudging Harry. As he speaks, he takes aim for one of Louis and Niall’s cups, missing by a mile.

“Yeah, Mr. President,” Louis agrees. “You’re not doing yourself any favors.” 

Harry just smirks and crosses his arms over his chest, looking at Louis challengingly as he prepares to throw again, since Niall is apparently out of commission for the time being. 

Louis successfully gets the ball in the cup a second time, fist pumping in celebration.

“Hah!” He says, victorious. Harry smiles softly at him and Nick groans, picking up the cup of piss warm beer and forcing it down. Louis takes a little bow, knowing Harry’s eyes are on him, but when he looks back up, Nick’s face has gone green.

“I feel pukey,” Nick says, and Louis grimaces. 

“Go sit down,” Harry says, frowning in concern and patting Nick gently on the back. Louis glances down, suddenly remembering that Niall was there giggling just moments ago, and finds that he's now passed out on the floor, mouth wide open and snoring like a chainsaw. Louis sighs.

“Well,” Harry says, catching Louis's attention. Louis glances over at him and sees that he’s grinning winningly. “Let’s call it a tie.” 

Louis walks around the beer pong table to approach him, deciding that he’s not in the mood to deal with waking up Niall when he’s a terrifying combination of drunk and sleepy.

Harry probably expects Louis to stop a few feet away from him, but instead, Louis invades Harry’s personal space, looking up at him through his eyelashes. Harry looks mostly sober, his eyes tired but focused, and his t-shirt isn’t covered in beer stains like most peoples’ are at this point in the night. He does have a snapback on his head, of course, the brim facing backwards, which makes him look like enough like a stereotypical frat boy that Louis almost wants to laugh. 

All the brothers around them are beyond drunk at this point, so nobody is paying attention to Louis and Harry, and Louis takes advantage of the opportunity. Without warning, he plucks the hat off Harry’s head, giggling at the state of disarray it leaves his curls in. Louis then puts it on his own head, and rather than get annoyed, Harry just dimples at Louis and runs his fingers through his hair in an attempt to fix the damage done by the hat, though he only makes the situation worse.

“We were winning, actually,” Louis says, suddenly remembering what Harry just said about ending their game with a tie.

“I can give you a better prize than watching me getting drunk on cheap beer,” Harry says. “If you’re willing, of course.” 

He wiggles his eyebrows obnoxiously and Louis shrugs, feigning nonchalance. They both know he’s willing.

“I dunno,” he says, figuring there’s no harm in messing with Harry a bit more. “There are so many prospects for me here tonight, don’t you think?” Louis makes a show of glancing around the room, letting his eyes linger on Harry’s frat brothers that are larger and more muscular. When he’s done with his scan of the room, he glances down at Harry’s hands, which are by his sides and now clenched into tight fists.

“You’re really torturing me right now,” Harry sighs, eyebrows furrowed. Louis gives him a sly smile. 

“You’re very easy to provoke,” he says, and Harry huffs out a laugh.

“Meet me upstairs in 15? I’m going to drag Niall to bed.” 

And that right there is why Harry earned the title of frat president this year rather than any of the other brothers. Harry cares for everyone in the frat like they really are his family, always taking care of them and making sure they stay out of trouble, and they all adore him for it. Louis gets the sudden urge to kiss Harry, but he resists, looking away instead.

“Have fun,” he says, knowing Harry has a dangerous mission with Niall ahead of him. In the meantime, Louis decides to find Zayn and Gigi and tell them that he’s heading out. With any luck, he’ll manage to sneak back into his dorm in the morning without Zayn realizing that he didn’t actually sleep there.

Louis heads toward the stairs to the basement as Harry begins to prod Niall awake. 

Duty calls.

 

\--

 

Louis raps on the door once firmly, ensuring that the sound of the knock will be audible over the thumping of the bass downstairs. The door swings open a few seconds later, with a hand extending and yanking him through the doorway.

Once in the room, Louis is immediately pushed against the closed door, a pair of lips attaching themselves to his before he has time to even complete a thought. Louis kisses back, of course, letting his eyes fall closed when he realizes that the bedroom is too dark for him to see anyway, the curtains drawn closed.

Louis tries to reach up to tangle his hands in the man’s hair, still messed up from earlier, but a large hand catches his wrists in both hand and holds them still, forcing Louis to just lean back against the door and let himself be kissed thoroughly.

After a few minutes with nothing more than the distant beat of the stereo and the slick sounds of their mouths colliding, Louis pulls back and tries to catch his breath.

“You’ve been a troublemaker, kitten,” Harry drawls.

Louis smiles and wiggles one of his hands free from Harry’s grasp, moving it up to rotate the snapback on his head so the brim is facing forward, tipping it in Harry’s direction once and winking as he finally allows his head to fall back against the door comfortably. 

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Louis says. He chooses to ignore Harry’s pouting lips, though Louis knows what he wants.

Harry leans down to steal another kiss anyway.

“Mmhm,” Harry mumbles against his lips, moving his hands down to cup Louis’ ass. “Your bum in these jeans, Lou,” he says, punctuating his words by squeezing.

Louis rolls his eyes and pushes at Harry’s chest until he takes a few steps backward. When he realizes where Louis intends to go, Harry grabs his hand and tugs Louis after him toward the bed. 

As Harry is the president of the frat, his room in the house is the largest and nicest, but that doesn’t necessarily mean much. It’s still a fairly typical college male’s room, cheap plastic bins and dirty gym clothes and all, but the obnoxious pink bedspread and candles covering every surface are uniquely Harry.

Currently, the offensive bedspread is a tangled mess on the floor, so Louis doesn’t feel the need to make a mocking comment about it when Harry pushes Louis down on the bed, accidentally knocking the snapback off Louis’ head and onto one of the pillows in the process. Harry immediately strips his shirt over his head and tugs his jeans down before climbing on top of Louis, almost kneeing him in the balls.

“Watch it,” Louis squawks, but Harry just laughs and cups Louis’ jaw gently, kissing him hard and long enough that both Louis and his dick forget about the near-trauma. All Louis can concentrate on is Harry — Harry’s lips on his, Harry’s hands on his face, Harry’s body pressing down against him, Harry’s cock nudging at Louis’ thigh insistently. 

Eventually, Harry breaks the kiss and begins to strip Louis’ clothes off as well, pushing his jacket off his shoulders and peeling his shirt off his body, immediately covering the newly exposed skin with kisses and love bites that make Louis shiver. 

Harry moves down his body slowly, too caught up with his lips on Louis’ skin to move with any type of urgency, but eventually, he does manage to pull Louis’ jeans and boxers off his legs, leaving him fully naked. 

Harry kisses the tip of Louis’ cock once, just a greeting, before moving up and lavishing attention on Louis’ stomach, sucking bruises on either side of his belly button and making him squirm. He gently fondles Louis’ nipples without moving his lips from Louis’ belly, managing to split his attention.

Louis rolls his eyes and mouths the words along with Harry, already certain of what he’s going to say.

“Sensitive little nipples,” Harry says, and Louis groans, reaching down to tug Harry back up his body. 

“Unless your dick is inside me, I’m not interested in hearing you talk,” Louis says bossily. He hopes he sounds firm, but Harry’s responding smirk suggests that he heard the break in Louis’ voice when he spoke.

Despite Harry’s inability to control his limbs at certain critical moments, he does manage to shimmy his boxer briefs down his hips while kissing Louis quiet. 

“C’mon, c’mon,” Louis says as he reaches down to wrap his fingers around Harry’s cock, a little too eager. 

Harry groans slightly at the touch before pulling Louis’ hand away. He leans over Louis, ignoring his protests, to reach for the nearly empty bottle of lube that’s sitting conveniently on the crate he uses as a bedside table. When Louis' eyes follow the motion, he's unsurprised to see a sheet of pink glitter heart stickers lying there, likely a gift from the young girl that Harry mentors as part of a frat philanthropy effort. 

Harry knocks two candles over in the process of trying to obtain the lube, but eventually, he manages to flick the cap open and squeeze some into his fingers. He rubs his fingers together briefly to warm the liquid up slightly, always concerned for Louis’ comfort, and Louis feels his heart throb in his chest. 

“Love you,” Harry says when he circles on finger around Louis’ hole. 

“I love, fuck,” Louis gasps out, as Harry chooses that exact moment to push one lube-slick finger into him without further warning.

"What was that, baby? I didn’t catch that,” Harry says, voice cocky, and Louis smacks a palm against Harry’s shoulder and closes his eyes, ignoring Harry’s laughter in favor of letting himself take in the feeling of Harry’s finger inside him, which, in what feels like no time at all, becomes two fingers, and then three.

“Say it,” Harry commands him finally, three fingers deep in Louis’ ass, yet somehow managing to avoid the spot that Louis so desperately wants touched. 

Louis groans. 

“I love you, but at the moment, I hate you,” Louis admits, throwing an arm over his face to hide his reaction when Harry finally pushes his fingers against Louis’ prostate insistently. He knows Harry has a satisfied smile on his face without looking, and unsurprisingly, it’s still there when Harry decides Louis is open enough for him and slithers back up his body to pry Louis’ arm off his face and kiss him again. 

Harry kisses Louis until he stops pouting, and Louis can feel his hands moving where he’s almost certainly slicking his cock up with more lube. Louis doesn’t hear the sound of a condom being ripped open, so he assumes Harry will be going without, which of course means Louis will have to sneak into the bathroom to take a shower at some ungodly hour in the morning if he wants to avoid doing a walk of shame with Harry’s come dripping out of his ass. Not like it’d be the first time.

“Ready?” Harry asks seriously as he lines himself up, pausing until Louis answers. Louis stares at him for a moment, and then makes a split second decision. 

“No,” he says, and Harry freezes, face a mixture of confusion and concern. Louis pushes at his chest until Harry rolls off of him and then makes a motion to suggest that Harry should lay down on his back, and Harry goes willingly, though he still seems slightly confused.

“Gonna ride you,” Louis explains, pushing himself up and slinging one leg around Harry’s hip, straddling him easily. Harry smiles, dimples and all, clearly surprised and pleased by the change in position, and Louis rolls his eyes again. Harry looks so gone for him, and while Louis realizes he’s not any better himself, at least he has a poker face.

Harry has his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, ready to help guide it when Louis lifts himself up, but Louis has one thing he needs to do first. He reaches up and tugs on the dark curtains covering the window until they open several inches, allowing the light of the moon and streetlamps to cast enough light on Louis and Harry that they can see each other better.

Harry groans appreciatively at the sight and moves his hands to hold Louis’ hips as Louis finally lowers himself down onto Harry’s cock. He moves slowly, of course, because as many times as he’s taken Harry’s dick in the past twelve months of them being together, he’ll never really be used to taking that monster.

When Louis is finally fully seated, his ass cradled by Harry’s hips, he wiggles around a bit. The motion allows him to adjust better, of course, but mainly, Louis is doing it with the intention of driving Harry crazy. 

Sure enough, Harry tightens his grip on Louis’ hips immediately. Figuring if he's going to go for it, he might as well go all the way, Louis then plucks Harry’s snapback up from where it was knocked off earlier and puts it back on his head, smirking.

“The real question is whether _you’re_ ready,” Louis says pointedly, lifting his body, pausing to make eye contact with his boyfriend, and then lowering himself down.

Harry moans, but doesn’t respond otherwise, instead simply biting his lip and keeping his hands on Louis’ hips, giving him some support so Louis doesn’t have to solely rely on the power of his thighs and the brace of his hands on Harry’s torso. Louis can feel himself getting hot and almost wishes that he hadn’t put the snapback back on his head, sweat beading from his hairline, but he knows it drives Harry wild when he wears it, so it’s worth it. 

Though Louis knows the music is still audible from downstairs, Louis forgets about it in between the sound of Harry’s moans and his own whimpers, and as usual, they get too caught up in each other to bother paying attention to anything else. 

“Fuck, kitten,” Harry moans out finally, the first words either of them have said in a while, his eyes dropping closed at the pleasure before he forces them back open to look at Louis on top of him. “You look so good like this, sitting on your throne, right? How did I get this fucking lucky? I’ll never understand it.”

Louis can’t help but whimper again at that, digging his nails into Harry’s chest as he rides him, picking up the pace. The hat is somehow still on his head, his fringe poking out from underneath, sticking to his forehead, and Louis knows his entire body is shining with the sweat of exertion as he works himself up and down tirelessly.

“You say the most embarrassing shit, god,” Louis says, trying to sound unaffected, but he knows he’s given himself away when he hears how short of breath he sounds now compared to how he did even moments ago.

Harry smiles and pushes his hips up to meet Louis as he lowers himself down, slamming his dick into Louis' prostate with enough force that Louis squeezes his eyes closed and gasps in surprise.

“You're not subtle, sweetheart,” Harry says.

Louis doesn’t dignify with a response, but he pushes himself up and down with a renewed vigor, ignoring his own cock as it bounces along with his movements. The noises coming out of his mouth at this point are beyond embarrassing, so Louis isn’t surprised when Harry decides to put him out of his misery, reaching forward to grip his erection with one hand while the other rests on Louis’ hip.

Harry’s just circled his fingers around Louis’ cock when Louis hears a sound closer than the distant thumping of the bass. Much closer.

Harry hears it too, and they both stop moving and try to listen, though Louis is struggling to hear anything other than the pounding of his heart in his chest. 

To Louis’ complete and utter horror, two loud knocks then sound on the door, immediately followed by sound of the doorknob turning. Louis tries desperately to remember if they locked the door, but when it opens a second later, he has his answer.

Louis can tell from the look on Harry’s face that he has no idea what to do, but thankfully, Louis is a quick thinker. He reaches behind himself to grasp the lone sheet on the bed, which has been pooled around Harry’s calves since they started fucking, and yanks it over his own head, ensuring that whoever is entering will see nothing more than the outline of a body sitting on Harry’s dick. Lovely. 

“Jesus Christ,” Liam says, and Harry groans. 

Louis, who’s trying not to move lest he reveal himself, watches Harry’s eyes fall closed for a second, as though Liam will disappear so long as Harry can't see him. He's trying to lessen some of the embarrassment, but Louis knows it will do no good. When Harry opens his eyes again, he looks across the room toward Liam, who Louis assumes is still standing in the open door, though he can’t see him himself. 

“Generally after knocking, one is supposed to _wait_ for someone to tell them it’s okay to enter, Liam,” Harry says through gritted teeth, apparently far too aware of the fact that he’s still balls deep inside Louis. Louis knows that the fact that his body is fully hidden from view comforts Harry to some degree, but it’s still probably one of the more embarrassing moments in his life. It certainly would be for Louis if he were visible.

As it is, however, Louis’ terror from earlier is quickly turning into amusement.

“Sorry,” Liam says, not sounding sorry at all. “Who’re you fucking up here, anyway?” 

Louis isn’t even the least bit surprised that Liam would ask such a tactless question, so when Harry groans again, Louis just snickers quietly, his head still under the blanket. 

“What the fuck do you want, Liam? I’d like to get back to what I was doing,” Harry cuts himself off when Louis’ reaches forward and pinches his stomach, offended. “ _Who_ I was doing, if that’s okay with you.”

Liam laughs loudly, and when this situation is over, Louis knows Harry will have a very long talk with Liam about 1) boundaries, 2) appropriate times to laugh, and 3) how to make his visits to Harry’s room short and sweet. After he finishes punishing Louis for giggling too, anyway.

Finally, Liam answers.

“The cops are on the front porch, dude,” he says, and Harry makes a sound of frustration. “Noise complaint again, apparently. I think they’re just going to give us a warning again, and I can take care of kicking everyone out of the basement, but they want to talk to the frat president, so...” 

He trails off. 

Louis chooses this moment to clench around Harry’s dick, making Harry groan again for a very different reason, and smirks. Harry tightens his grip on Louis’ hips in warning, but he can't help himself from letting his eyes move up Louis’ body, taking in the view. Louis can see Harry’s eyes linger on his lips, which are probably reddened and swollen by now. Louis smiles. Harry’s always so easy.

“Alright,” Harry grunts out, squeezing Louis’ hips again. “I’ll be down in a few minutes. Just tell them I’m in the shower and I need to towel off and get dressed or something.” 

Louis hears Liam laugh again.

“Aye aye, captain,” he says, and a few seconds later, Louis hears him pull the door closed behind him.

As soon as the door to Harry’s room is closed again, Harry lets out a sigh of relief and Louis yanks the sheet off his head. It catches on the snapback, pulling it off and probably leaving him with hat hair, which would piss Louis off if he weren’t feeling particularly well fucked at the moment.

“Gonna go talk to the cops with your dick this hard?” Louis asks, clenching down around Harry again without moving his body otherwise, and he’s probably far too amused considering the dire nature of the situation. 

Louis knows Harry has a split second to make a decision, but it’s not like it’s a difficult one to make. 

“Nope,” he says, using his firm grip on Louis’ hips to roll them over, falling comfortably between Louis’ legs as Louis’ head hits the pillow, their bodies still connected. It knocks the wind out of Louis slightly, and when he gasps in surprise, Harry smirks down at him and starts moving his hips at double speed without warning, making sure to hit Louis’ prostate. Louis feels his toes curl involuntarily. 

Louis wants to make another sarcastic comment, but all he can do is whimper and hold on for dear life. 

“I’ll make the cops wait as long as it takes, baby,” Harry says, and Louis can see the raw concentration in his facial expression as he drives his hips in again and again. Louis knows Harry well enough to realize that he definitely isn’t joking, so he moves his hand down to his dick and starts stroking in time with Harry’s thrusts.

It doesn’t take long for him to get there, of course, not with a boy this gorgeous and strong on top of him, inside him, fulfilling him in every way you can fulfill a person. Harry thrusts in again, slamming against Louis’ prostate harder than before, and Louis comes with a high-pitched cry.

Harry’s eyes stay glued to his face while he comes, but as soon as Louis tunes back in, he sees Harry close his eyes tightly and concentrates, thrusting in no more than half a dozen times before burying his face in Louis’ shoulder and biting down. Louis whimpers slightly at the feeling of Harry coming inside him, but he lets Harry pant against his skin, his breath hot and wet. 

“Babe,” Louis says after a few seconds, pushing Harry’s chest until he pulls himself together enough to pull out and lift his head. “Go talk to the cops before they come up here and get more of a show than they signed up for. And dunk your hair in the bathroom sink first so they don’t think you lied about the shower.” There’s nothing Harry can do about the smell of sex lingering on his body, but hopefully the cops won’t get close enough to tell. 

Harry groans exaggeratedly, but he gets up. He finds a pair of boxers and a t-shirt from the floor and leans down to kiss Louis’ sweaty forehead once, giving him a bright smile.

“See you soon, baby,” he says, and Louis just blinks, waving his hand tiredly. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he agrees, grabbing an edge of the sheet and wiping his stomach clean before rolling out of the wet spot that’s formed under his body. He can still feel come and lube dripping out of him, and he tries to clench enough to stop it, but gives up quickly, knowing it’ll do no good. 

This isn’t the first time he’s fallen asleep all messy like this, and with Harry as his boyfriend, Louis knows it won’t be the last.

Louis curls up in a ball on Harry’s bed, exhaustion overtaking him, and lets himself slowly drift off. 

When Harry returns to the room twenty minutes later, Louis startles at the sound of him closing and locking the door behind him. Louis watches through half-lidded eyes as Harry pulls his shirt off and tosses it aside before making way to the bed.

“Learned from your mistakes?” Louis says, voice sleepy and amused.

“Shut up,” Harry says, but he kisses Louis as soon as he lies down. 

Harry pulls Louis into his chest and peppers his face with kisses until Louis twists his nipple to get him to stop, too sexed out to deal with this nonsense, as adorable as it may be. Louis has just begun drifting off again when he feels one of Harry’s hands making its way to his ass. Louis sighs when he feels fingers stroking at his hole, playing with the come that’s still leaking out and pushing some of it back inside Louis. 

“I fucking hate you,” Louis says, not bothering to open his eyes.

Harry’s chuckle is the last thing Louis hears before he’s asleep.

 

\---

 

Louis gathers his books, papers, and laptop up from where they’re spread across the couch and coffee table and moves them to his bedroom in two trips. Considering there are still piles of clothing covering the floor from the previous weekend, it's a difficult feat to navigate a clear path to his bed, especially when Louis has his arms full. He should probably clean those up at some point, but it's definitely not happening today.

He’s just finished rearranging all his school stuff in his room when there’s a knock on the door to their dorm suite, so Louis jogs out into the living area to open it up. 

“Hey, baby,” Harry greets, allowing Louis to tug him in and give him a kiss. He’s got a snapback on, as usual, and his tank top and athletic shorts suggest that he’ll head to the gym after he leaves Louis’ dorm. 

“Hey,” Louis says to him, smiling. “Perfect timing. I just finished moving all my shit into my room. Zayn’s out until late, but Steve’s home, so we need to stay in my room. I think he’s napping right now though.”

Louis closes the suite door behind them and then intertwines his fingers with Harry's, dragging him toward Louis’ bedroom. Louis is just about to open his mouth and ask how Harry’s last class was when he hears a noise and spins around, just in time to see Steve exiting his own bedroom.

He’s clearly sleep rumpled, tie dye t-shirt wrinkled, eyes half closed, long hair looking like a bird nested in it on one side, and he’s carrying an empty reusable water bottle that he clearly intends to refill in the kitchen.

When Steve sees the two of them, he stops dead in his tracks, mouth dropping open. 

“Uh,” Steve says dumbly, and Louis quickly pushes Harry through the open door of his bedroom.

“You saw nothing!” Louis squeaks in a highly undignified manner before following Harry into the room and slamming the door behind them. The last thing he sees before the door closes is Steve’s confused expression and shrug. Honestly, there's a good chance he thinks he's still dreaming.

“Jesus Christ,” Louis says, pressing his hand to his rapidly beating heart. Harry just gives Louis an amused look and walks over to his bed, pulling his snapback off and tossing it onto the bedside table before flopping down, carefully avoiding where Louis’ laptop is sitting.

“That was a close call,” Louis says, still standing by the door. He looks over at Harry.

Harry just shrugs.

“Why does it matter if he knows? It’s not like Steve will tell anyone,” Harry says. 

Louis makes a noncommittal sound and walks over to the bed to lie down beside Harry, turning his body to face him.

“How was class?” He asks. 

Harry rolls his eyes back in his head and lets his tongue flop out of his mouth, miming death. 

Louis laughs and moves closer, burying his face in Harry’s chest. He smells like a mixture of cologne, sweat, what Louis assumes is the seasoning on the chicken he ate at the dining hall for lunch, and an underlying scent that is distinctly Harry, and Louis can’t help but inhale it more deeply, letting it wash over him and calm his senses.

“Finished your essay?” Harry asks. Louis groans and bites Harry’s chest through his shirt just to be a brat, provoking a surprised shriek of pain from his boyfriend. Louis does have very sharp teeth, after all. “Alright, alright, I take it that’s your answer,” Harry says, and Louis can hear the smile in his voice without glancing up. 

They just lie there for a little while, breathing each other in and dozing off somewhat, but eventually, Harry gently shoves Louis off him and sits up.

“Y’gotta work, baby,” Harry says, words slurring together as he yawns. “You only have until midnight. Want me to order us food?” 

Louis nods and hands Harry his phone to place the order, knowing that Harry will get him a burger and fries without needing to be told. While Harry focuses on that, Louis sits up, pushing open his laptop and grabbing one of the thicker books he got from the library yesterday. He only has about two pages left to write for this essay, but he knows those last two are going to be the most brutal. 

When Harry finishes ordering their dinner, he hands Louis back his phone and gets up. Louis is searching the book’s glossary to double check something, so he doesn’t pay attention to what Harry's doing, but when he finally glances up, he sees him sitting cross legged on the floor of Louis’ small bedroom, carefully folding Louis’ clean laundry and tossing the dirty clothes in the general direction of Louis’ mesh hamper.

“Thanks, babe,” Louis says, grateful for the help. He’s been really overwhelmed with work lately, and whenever he’s stressed from school stuff, his room becomes even more of a pigsty than it usually is, which only serves to stress him out further. Harry tends to be fairly neat, so whenever he pitches in with cleaning, Louis knows it’s going to end well for him. 

“I got you, Lou,” Harry says, smiling. Louis blows him a kiss, and Harry makes a show of catching it and putting it in his pocket. 

Louis manages to finish half a page of his essay by the time the food arrives, so he decides that he should be allowed to take a short break while he eats at least. He and Harry sit down on the floor, now clear of clothing thanks to Harry’s help, and chow down on their burgers and fries while they chat about their day. 

When Louis finishes telling Harry about how he tossed water on Zayn to wake him up for his morning class, Harry laughs hard enough that soda comes out of his nose, which only makes them laugh harder. By the time the laughter dies down, however, Louis feels the atmosphere in the room shift into something more serious.

“Baby,” Harry begins, and Louis pauses, a French fry halfway to his mouth.

“Yeah?” He asks, prompting Harry to continue.

“Don’t you think we should um,” Harry trails off for a few seconds. “Tell people? About us, I mean. Y’know, we’ve been doing this for a year now.” 

Louis places the fry in his mouth and chews slowly to give himself enough time to recover and come up with an appropriate response. Once he’s swallowed, he leans forward slightly, moving himself closer to Harry.

“Are you not happy with how we are right now?” Louis asks, and as he says the words, concern over the possibility that they’re true floods his body. 

Harry gets an alarmed look on his face and shakes his head. 

“No, no, Louis, that’s not what I meant. I’m happy as long as you’re happy, and if you don’t want anyone other than our families to know, I can deal with that. I just wondered if maybe it would be, I don’t know, easier? If we were just open about it to our friends and stuff. I’d love to be able to kiss you without worrying who sees, uh, if you’re comfortable with that,” Harry finishes, sounding uncertain.

Louis thinks about how much fun he and Harry have had sneaking around since they first hooked up. They fell in love right under all their friends’ noses, and it was fun, _is_ fun, to have something so important to them that they keep to themselves. The sneaking around and the close calls have led to many laughs over the months, and Louis has enjoyed it. He knows Harry has too. 

At the same time, the prospect of being with Harry in public is appealing — being able to show everyone that Louis somehow managed to snag the best person he’s ever known, that they’re in love, that even though they haven’t been together for that long and even though they’re in college still and even though they’re young, they both somehow know, deep down inside, though they’ve never had the guts to voice it, that this is it for both of them. That they’re it for each other. 

Still, Harry and Louis haven’t exactly made it easy on themselves. Louis has pushed back against frats and frat boys since day one, and since Harry and Louis started hooking up, Harry has only turned up his public teasing of Louis, leading his brothers to think that he and Louis don’t get along at all.

“Nobody will ever stop giving us shit for this,” Louis groans, trying to picture his friends’ reactions when they realize that for all Louis’ complaints about frats and frat boys, he still went ahead and fell in love with Harry fucking Styles.

Harry gives Louis a small smile. 

“We probably deserve it, Lou,” he says, and Louis reaches over to smack his arm. 

Harry laughs, and Louis can tell he’s not going to press the subject any further, but he also knows that Harry is very serious about wanting to go public with their relationship. 

Louis sighs.

“I’ll think about it, okay, babe?” He asks.

Harry nods and gives him a more genuine smile before leaning in, their burger and fry greasy lips meeting in a chaste kiss. 

“Alright, baby,” Harry says softly, and that’s that.

 

\--

 

Normally on the weekends, Louis has a tendency to sleep until the early hours of the afternoon, needing the recovery time after a night of partying or a full week of all-nighters due to exams or essays.

On this particular Saturday, however, Louis drags his ass out of bed at 11AM, all in the name of being a good friend and an even better boyfriend. Lambda Chi is having a philanthropy event today, and from what Harry’s told Louis, it’s basically going to be a bunch of silly fair events set up on the quad with the intention of bleeding everyone’s wallets dry for a good cause.

It’s a crisp fall day, and though the sun is shining, Louis is self-aware enough to realize that he should probably dress warmly. He pulls on a pair of jeans and a hoodie that Harry let him borrow months ago before saying bye to Zayn and Steve, who are both still asleep in the living room, their bodies sprawled out beside a bong and Louis’ Tupperware of weed in the living room. Louis chuckles at the sight and lets himself out.

When Louis arrives at the quad, he sees that he’s far from the first person who’s arrived for this shitshow. There are about ten to fifteen different tents and tables set up on the grass, all of which are being manned by frat brothers in obnoxious neon letter shirts, and there are already lines of people at several of the booths. Louis sees a lot of sorority girls, decked out in their own letters, but there’s also a fair amount of unaffiliated students and even some families with children who likely live near campus. 

From one glance around the quad, Louis identifies the location of the dunk tank, the kissing booth, the table for face-painting, and the table stacked high with cream pies. Louis smiles. 

He might have Jeff draw a peach on his cheek later (the cheek on his face, of course, because though the other one might be a more appropriate location, Louis doesn’t want to witness a murder today), but the dunk tank is closer than the face painting table, so Louis heads over there first.

A good friend of Louis’ from his freshman calculus class, Bebe, is in line right in front of him, so Louis passes the time chatting with her. Louis and Bebe bonded back in the day by helping keep each other awake in that early morning class, a process that required a lot of juicy gossip and kicking each others’ shins when they dozed off. He doesn’t get to see her as much these days, as they have different majors and run in different circles, but every time Louis and Bebe do stumble upon each other, it always leaves him with a huge smile on his face.

When it’s finally his turn, Louis hands five dollars to the newbie frat brother whose job it is to hand people balls to the throw at the button. Louis’ grateful that he remembered to actually go to the ATM before this and get cash out. Otherwise, he probably would have just stolen some money from Harry’s wallet.

Five dollars buys Louis three tries at dunking the frat boy in the tank, and he plans to make the most of them.

“Hello, Nicholas,” Louis says, smiling sweetly. Nick groans.

“Screw you, Tommo,” he says, angrily pushing a wet tuft of hair off his forehead. “I can’t believe I was assigned to this shit. Harry was so fucking amused when he told me I was on dunk tank duty from 10AM to 2PM, and he didn’t even tell me until half an hour before we left the house to come here.” 

Louis throws his head back and laughs. Harry had mentioned that he was going to wait for Nick to spend an hour perfectly arranging his quiff before breaking the news to him, and Louis really wishes he could’ve been there to see his reaction. 

“Don’t worry, Nick,” Louis reassures him, taking the first ball from the frat brother beside him. “I have terrible aim. You remember when we played beer pong, right?” 

Louis takes a second to appreciate every microexpression on Nick’s face, ranging from confusion to suspicion, just before he lifts his arm and takes aim.

The ball he throws hits the button, of course, just as he thought it would, and the floor drops out from under Nick, plunging him into what looks like extremely chilly water. Louis regrets not getting his phone out quickly enough to capture Nick’s underwater reaction, but his face when he surfaces is almost as good.

“Tommo, you fu—” Nick begins as he climbs out of the dunk tank, but he aborts his statement when he notices the young boy with his father standing in line right behind Louis. “You’re a bad person,” he chooses to say instead, but his expression makes it clear that what he’s thinking is definitely not family friendly. Louis gives him a sympathetic nod.

“Sorry, Nick,” Louis says. “Lucky first shot, maybe. Speaking of lucky, I heard you got an internship at the radio station.” Louis heard that from Harry, actually, so he hopes that Nick’s told the other brothers by now, or at least that he’s distracted enough by being repeatedly dunked to not wonder how Louis knows that.

“Yeah,” Nick says, voice colored with excitement. “It’s an amazing opportunity and I really think that—”

Louis chooses that moment to throw his second ball, once again hitting the button, and Nick’s sentence becomes little more than an angry gurgle as he’s once again dunked. Louis is cackling when Nick resurfaces again, and Nick looks annoyed enough at this point that he doesn’t bother saying anything to Louis at all when he climbs out of the tank and repositions himself. He just crosses his arms over his chest and sticks his nose up in the air.

“Sorry, Nick,” Louis says, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. “It was too easy. Here, I’ll give up my last turn, alright?” 

Louis turns to the young boy standing in line behind him. “Do you want to take my last shot for me, bud?” Louis asks, glancing at his father to make sure it’s okay with him. The father nods and smiles, so Louis gives the young boy a big grin. The boy looks very shy, half hidden behind his father’s leg, but he nods and takes the ball from Louis’ hand. 

“Alright, Nick, my friend here is going to help me out with this one,” Louis says, and Nick’s face has transitioned from angry to fond. Nick gives the boy an encouraging nod.

And then the little boy makes the shot. 

Louis’ mouth gapes open, surprised that the boy threw with enough force to actually press the button down even if he did hit it, and Nick’s face is a mixture of horror and shock as he’s submerged for the third time in a row. Louis can’t help the loud burst of laughter that comes out of his mouth then, and this time, everyone around him is joining in, from the newbie frat boy accepting the money who was probably too scared to laugh earlier, to the young boy’s father, to every random person within a twenty foot radius of the dunk tank. 

“Whoops,” Louis says, grimacing. “Anyways, have a good rest of your day, Nick! And good luck with the shrinkage!” He adds, unable to help himself. Louis knows Nick will probably never forgive him for that comment, but it’s worth it for the noise of outrage he makes as Louis jogs away from the dunk tank line.

Louis slows down to weave through the crowd of people, taking care to avoid accidentally stepping on the toes of any other small children that are milling about. He sees a few booths that have lines far too long for Louis’ tastes, so he just keeps walking.

As Louis walks by the kissing booth, however, he notices Liam standing off to the side with a disgusted look on his face. Both of his cheeks are covered with red lipstick marks, and the paper towel he’s using to rub it off has done little more than smear the lipstick around and make his cheeks even redder from irritation.

“Oh dear,” Louis says, coming to a halt by Liam’s side. 

Liam groans when he sees Louis. 

“Help me, please,” he says desperately, gesturing toward his face. Louis takes the paper towel from his hand and glances around for something he can use, eventually spotting an unopened water bottle behind one of the booths. He snatches it up, nodding at the frat brother who tries to protest Louis taking it until he recognizes him. Louis uses the water bottle to wet the paper towel and then tells Liam to close his eyes and hold still. Liam obeys, letting Louis scrub at his face as gently as possible, and Louis does eventually manage to get most of it off, though the long-wear lipsticks give him some grief. 

When Liam’s face is about 95 percent lipstick-free and therefore as good as Louis will be able to get it under these circumstances, he tosses the paper towel into the trash bin nearby. 

“Why do the older brothers get stuck with the shittiest tasks?” Louis asks finally, breaking the silence. Liam looks like he wants to die of embarrassment more than he wants to speak, but Louis knows he’ll answer.

Liam sighs. “We’re better known on campus, generally speaking, so it’s important that we take an active role in stuff like this. It’d be bad form if it were only a bunch of freshman pledges that nobody really knows yet who were doing all this stuff, you know? God only fucking knows how I got stuck with kissing booth duty though. Everyone wanted Harry to do it, ‘cause he’s the most popular single brother at the house by far, but he outright refused. Wouldn’t tell us why either.”

Louis can’t help the smile that comes across his face at that.

“Speaking of Harry,” Liam says, frowning as he glances down at Louis’ hoodie. “He has a hoodie like that.”

Louis tries to school his face into an expression that looks both confused and disinterested, but he doesn’t have to worry. Liam just jumps right back into his story.

“Right, so Harry made up for it by only giving us hour-long shifts at the kissing booth, but still,” Liam continues. “My lips have touched too many people today, and too many lips have touched me.”

Liam gives a full body shudder as memories from the last hour seem to echo through his mind. 

“Sorry, Payno,” Louis says sympathetically. “But it’s for a good cause, right?”

Liam exhales through his nose, apparently pulling himself together, and nods enthusiastically. 

“Of course,” he says, voice honest, and Louis smiles. Liam is a good egg. 

Louis pats Liam on the shoulder affectionately.

“Alright, well I’m off to the pie-throwing booth,” Louis says, taking a step backwards. 

Liam rolls his eyes. “Just a warning — Harry’s working that booth right now. He has a break for lunch soon, I think, so you might miss him, but if you don’t, please be nice.” 

Louis gives Liam a winning smile and a thumbs up. 

“Always am,” he says, turning away and ignoring Liam’s defeated groan. 

When Louis reaches the tent where the pie-throwing is taking place, he sees that the line is fairly reasonable, for now at least, and he wonders how much that has to do with people not wanting to pie someone as nice as Harry in the face. Thankfully, Louis has no such qualms, so he steps into line easily.

The line moves up a bit before Harry catches sight of Louis standing there, and when he does, his face lights up, so fucking obvious. He’s just finished wiping his face with a paper towel to clean up some of the whipped cream, so Louis can see him dimple clearly. Of course, Louis can’t help but give him an equally embarrassingly obvious smile back. 

Harry deals with pies being thrown in his face with more dignity than Louis would be able to muster, and Louis watches amusedly as Harry thanks each thrower profusely for the money they’ve given to the cause, even when he has to do so through a mouth full of whipped cream. Of course, Harry can’t help his eyes from finding Louis every few seconds, about as subtle as a brick to the face, and every time their eyes meet, Louis has to bite back a smile.

When it’s finally Louis’ turn, Harry is grinning ear to ear. He looks far too happy considering he’s about to be pied in the face repeatedly by his own boyfriend, but that’s okay.

As Louis hands five more dollars to the freshman boy standing there, he watches Harry clean his face off again. He gets most of the whipped cream off, but there’s an obvious sheen of stickiness on his skin that won’t go away until he showers properly. 

“Hiya,” Louis says, eyes still on Harry. 

“Hello, Louis,” Harry says, voice deep and slow, and there’s a fond tone to it that other people may not be able to pick up on, but Louis could never miss. 

The freshman explains the rules to Louis, though they’re simple enough. Louis stands behind the line of tape in the grass and gets to throw three pies at Harry, who is a respectable distance away, sitting behind a table beneath an open tent. The boy tells Louis that if he wants to play a second time, he’ll have to go to the back of the line, and Louis just nods along absently while he speaks. 

“Thanks for supporting our philanthropy efforts today,” Harry says to Louis when the freshman finally stops talking, the smirk evident in his voice. 

“Oh, you know me,” Louis says. “Always doing my part for fraternities on campus.” 

His voice is sarcastic, but Harry just gives Louis a knowing look. 

The truth is that while Louis may hate fraternities, he doesn’t hate the charity work they do. Harry’s known that since he caught Louis making donations to other fraternity philanthropy efforts on campus way back in freshman year, long before they got together. 

Everyone assumes that Louis only attends events like this because Liam begs him to, but Louis would probably show up regardless, just because it’s a good cause.

“Give me your best,” Harry says, raising one eyebrow in challenge, and Louis narrows his eyes, feeling his competitive streak come out to play. 

He picks up the first pie, which is actually just an aluminum pie tin filled to the brim with whipped cream, and adjusts the positioning of his arm and hand a few times as he tries to decide what the best way to throw it is.

Finally settling on one position, Louis takes aim and tosses the pie.

And misses. Rather than covering the distance toward Harry, the pie moves about four feet and then falls to the ground, leaving a messy dollop of whipped cream on the grass. Louis stares at it in surprise for a moment, shocked that after his great aim at the dunk tank, he could fail so miserably. 

When he finally lifts his eyes from the sad scene before him, he sees Harry snickering into his hand.

Louis picks up the second pie without waiting for the freshman to hand it to him. He adjusts his arm, this time moving it slightly from how he’d had it positioned before, and throws the pie with every bit of strength he can muster in his body.

This time, it carries about two feet further than the last pie and slams into the edge of the table that Harry is sitting at patiently, leaving a smear of whipped cream behind when it flops down onto the grass.

Louis frowns. 

“I really think the aerodynamics involved with throwing these pies are unfair,” Louis begins, talking completely out of his ass. While he speaks, he maintains eye contact with Harry, who of course, is still fucking laughing. “In short, I think you guys are cheating.”

Harry nods, giving Louis a mock sympathetic look.

“Actually, Lou,” he says. “The many pies that people have managed to successfully throw at my face today beg to differ with your assessment of the situation.” 

Louis picks up the last pie. 

“Well,” he says, voice sickly sweet. “If you’d been paying attention, the wind has picked up significantly in the last few minutes, so it’s unfair to compare my throws to throws that were made under totally different wind conditions.”

Harry frowns and looks considering.

“Of course,” he says finally, smirk reappearing on his face. “It’s all the fault of the elements, rather than your total lack of skill. Makes perfect sense.”

Louis throws the last pie before Harry’s finished speaking, not bothering to take the time to carefully plan out the positioning of his arm. Unfortunately, the lack of consideration behind his throw does him no favors, as the pie barely moves at all before plunging to the ground. Harry lets out a loud burst of laughter and slaps his hand to his mouth, embarrassed, and a part of Louis wants to laugh too, but a larger part of him wants to smash a whipped cream pie in his boyfriend’s face. 

So that’s what he does.

Louis picks up one of the pies that’s intended for the next person in line and crosses the tape, stepping carefully around the pitiful pie tins on the grass and approaching the table that Harry’s sitting behind. 

Louis can hear the freshman protesting his actions, as he’s clearly breaking the rules, but Louis is a man on a mission, so he ignores it.

Harry’s eyes widen when Louis reaches the table, and Louis appreciates the ghost of laughter still on his face when Louis shoves the pie into it and rubs it in, making sure that when he pulls the tin back and tosses it onto the table, every last bit of whipped cream will linger on Harry’s forehead, eyelashes, cheeks, nose, lips, and chin.

Sure enough, Harry’s face is covered with what looks like a centimeter thick layer of whipped cream when Louis pulls the tin back, and for a moment, Louis is actually concerned about Harry’s ability to breath. He watches as Harry takes one hand and wipes some of the whipped cream off, uncovering his face enough that he can at least see out of one eye and breath out of his nostrils. 

“Anyways,” Louis says hastily, before Harry can get up from the table. “This was super fun, bye!”

He escapes the scene of the crime at a brisk pace, but he doesn’t walk away entirely, instead opting to walk behind the tent that Harry and the pie table were beneath. There’s a space that’s about four feet wide between the back of that tent and the back of another tent, and it creates a nice little hiding space. Louis can see that this space between tents is where the brothers are keeping coolers filled with water bottles and their backpacks so nobody will take them while they work shifts at the various tables and booths.

Louis can hear Harry telling the freshman that he’s going to take his break now and clean himself up a bit, and a few seconds later, Louis hears Zedd’s voice as he approaches to take over for Harry. 

“Good luck,” Harry says to Zedd.

Louis hears Zedd chuckle. 

“Looks like you needed some yourself, bro,” he says affectionately, and Louis hears Harry laugh.

“Eh, I’m lucky enough,” Harry says, which makes Louis smile. That’s the last thing Louis hears from Harry until he hears the approaching sound of footsteps on the grass. 

“You’re terrorizing us all today, I hear,” Harry says, coming up behind Louis and wrapping his arms around him. Louis fights the automatic impulse he has to sink into Harry’s embrace and pushes him off immediately, not wanting to get whipped cream all over him. Louis spins around to face him. 

“Where’d you hear that?” Louis asks innocently, reaching out to run a finger through the whipped cream still covering Harry’s face. When he’s sure Harry’s eyes are following his movement, Louis moves the finger to his lips, sucking it into his mouth in a way that probably only looks sexy to Harry. 

This probably isn’t the most sanitary thing Louis has ever done, but it’s worth it when he sees the lustful look in Harry’s eyes. 

“I heard Nick’s screeching from here,” Harry says, eyes now glued to Louis’ mouth. “And I got some experience firsthand just now, you may have noticed.” 

Louis smiles. 

“Sorry, babe,” Louis says, keeping his voice light and raspy and sweet, just the way Harry likes it best. “You must’ve forgotten how competitive I get.” 

Harry finally breaks his gaze away from Louis’ mouth, and Louis watches the dimple form in his cheek.

“You’re right,” Harry says, and there’s a tone to his voice that makes Louis uneasy. “And I guess you must’ve forgotten that we’re a team, you and I. And that means when I win, you win. And when I lose, you lose.”

Louis sees his life flash before his eyes right before it happens, but it’s too late to stop it. Harry moves in to grab Louis’ face and kiss him hard, open mouthed and messy, not so much from the colliding of their lips as from the transfer of whipped cream from Harry’s face to Louis’. 

“I love you so much, baby,” Harry says, breaking the kiss and rubbing his cheek against Louis’ cheek in a move that would normally be called affectionate. 

“So, so, so much,” he continues, pushing his forehead to rest against Louis’, which definitely causes some of the whipped cream to get into Louis’ perfectly styled fringe. 

“I’m breaking up with you,” Louis says, shoving Harry off him, and Harry laughs. 

Louis turns his back on Harry, crosses his arms, and cocks his hip, hoping that he’s sending a message of true annoyance to Harry. Louis can feel a disgusting dollop of whipped cream dripping down one of his cheeks, and he wants to wipe it off.

“Aww, baby,” Harry says, reaching out to touch Louis’ waist and spin him around again. “You must’ve seen that coming.”

It’s painful for Louis to admit that actually, no, he didn’t see that coming, because he thought his boyfriend was a good, kind, and loving person, rather than a vengeful brat like Louis himself is. Louis wants to whine about this, maybe for long enough that Harry will beg for forgiveness just to get Louis to shut the fuck up, but Harry interrupts him before he gets the chance to open his mouth. 

“Wanna shower with me later?” Harry asks sweetly, gently reaching forward to push Louis’ whipped cream covered fringe off his forehead. 

Louis shakes his head, and Harry leans in to kiss him again, soft and genuine this time. The kiss grows deep quickly, with Harry pushing Louis’ lips open with his tongue and licking inside, hands gripping tightly to Louis’ hips until one sneaks around to squeeze Louis’ ass through his jeans. 

Harry knows how easily distracted Louis is, that’s the thing, and though Louis knows what his boyfriend is trying to do right now, he’s also helpless to stop it. Louis gets lost in the kiss, just as he always does, and when Harry touches his ass, Louis can’t help but push his hips forward into Harry’s. He’s not surprised to discover that Harry’s half hard. After all, Harry's never been subtle about how much he gets off on Louis acting like a brat and letting Harry put him in his place. 

“What do you say?” Harry says, pulling back. His pupils are blown and he looks a mess, his hair and face still covered in tiny dots of whipped cream, and there’s no way Louis can say no to him.

“Alright,” Louis agrees, leaning in to kiss Harry again.

Harry breathes out a sigh of relief against Louis’ mouth. There have been many times when Louis kept a silly argument going for longer than necessary just to piss Harry off, so Louis knows he’s probably grateful Louis isn’t going to do that this time. 

“Here,” Harry says, pulling back from the kiss. He fishes a key out of his back pocket and waves it in front of Louis until Louis takes it from him, putting it carefully in his back pocket. It’s a key to the frat house, and Louis knows this because he’s been handed it many times before. 

“None of the guys are there, so you can sneak in now if you want and just wait for me in my room,” Harry explains. “I’ve gotta stick around here for another hour or two, but then I’ll come back. I think everyone else is gonna head to Buffalo Wild Wings or something, so we can take a long sexy shower in peace.”

Louis rolls his eyes at the term “sexy shower,” but it’s not like that’s a mischaracterization. And actually, Louis has some ideas for what they can do just before the sexy shower too. Since Harry wanted to see Louis covered in whipped cream so badly, Louis might have to make a quick stop at the grocery store to pick some up for a more explicit activity. 

Louis smiles to himself at the prospect.

“I’ll see you soon,” Louis says, giving Harry one more kiss goodbye. “Oh, and actually, I almost forgot,” Louis says, and Harry frowns in confusion. 

Louis leans in and rubs his face clean on Harry’s t-shirt, which has managed to stay mostly whipped cream free despite the day’s activities. Harry groans, but he doesn’t try to stop Louis. 

“All better,” Louis says, bright smile on his face. He gives Harry an awkward little pat on the cheek and walks away, making sure to sway his hips more than is necessary. 

Just for the fun of it.

 

\--

 

When Louis receives nothing but a string of sad face emojis during the three hours that he’s in his lecture, he knows that something is up. Louis tries to ask Harry why he’s upset, but all Harry does is send more emojis in response to every question he asks. Louis is finally free of class at around 10PM, and though he feels exhaustion in every cell of his body, he knows he needs to go over to Harry’s frat house instead of back to his own dorm. 

When Louis arrives at the house, he glances up at the window of Harry’s bedroom and sees that there’s no light on, unlike almost every other room in the house. Louis sighs and pounds his fist on the front door, adjusting the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. It’s about half past ten by now, and Louis is sure the ground level of the house is crazy, but he’s pretty sure that Harry is shut up in his dark bedroom.

Niall is the one who opens the door for Louis, his face lighting up with excitement immediately, but Louis can barely manage to give him much more than a weak smile in return, too tired and worried to do anything more. 

“Hey, Lou,” Niall says, beckoning Louis into the house. “Come on in. Are you okay?” Niall frowns. Louis can tell that he’s a little tipsy, but he’s not unaware enough to miss the obvious signs of Louis’ current mood. 

Louis nods, offering up a smile that he hopes is at least slightly more genuine. 

“Yeah, of course,” he assures Niall. “I’m just tired.” 

Louis glances around the room, noting that Liam isn’t there. That's ideal. 

“Do you want a beer?” Niall asks. “It’s Thirsty Thursday!” 

Louis looks at Niall fondly and shakes his head. “No thanks, Nialler. I was actually gonna run up and see Liam for a little bit if that’s alright. Is he in his bedroom?” Louis hopes that he didn’t just fuck up his excuse to get upstairs, as it’s possible Liam is in the kitchen or not in the frat house at all, but Niall nods.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s up there! Head on up.” Niall smiles and pats Louis on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” Louis says, hurriedly walking toward the large staircase, not bothering to greet anyone else in the room. A bunch of frat brothers are gathered around the couches, seemingly playing a drunken game of Cards Against Humanity, and normally, that would be something Louis might actually enjoy, but not when he has Harry drama to deal with. Louis will stop on his way out later and say hi to them all if they’re still around. 

Louis makes a mental note to drop in and say hi to Liam too, even if only for a minute, just in case Niall mentions Louis showing up to Liam, but first, he has more important tasks to take care of. Louis takes the stairs two steps at a time until he reaches the third floor, which is where Harry’s bedroom is. When Louis reaches his door, he doesn’t bother knocking, and when he pushes open the door, unsurprisingly, the room is shrouded in darkness.

Louis flicks on the light and listens to Harry grumble in annoyance. When Louis looks over at the heap of limbs in the bed that make up his boyfriend, he sees Harry rubbing at his eyes as they adjust to the light.

“Lou?” Harry asks, and he sounds half asleep and surprised.

Louis huffs and drops his backback on the floor by the door before locking locked the door just in case.

“Yes, you asshole,” Louis says, kicking off his sneakers and making his way toward Harry’s bed. “It’s me, your boyfriend, 6’5 in height, 200 pounds of pure muscle, with perfect hair, a perfect face, a perfect personality, and a perfect brain. Sound familiar?” Harry snorts at that, which is a good sign, so Louis continues. “I’m also the one who kept texting you asking what was wrong, and you kept bombarding me with emojis instead of an actual answer. What’s wrong, babe?” 

Louis lies down on the bed beside Harry, turning on his side and nudging Harry until he does the same, allowing them to face each other. 

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles. 

Louis leans forward and kisses Harry on the nose. 

“I can’t help if you won’t tell me what’s wrong,” Louis says, knowing that he probably sounds desperate. There are few things Louis hates more than when Harry is upset and won’t talk to him about it. 

“I think I fucked up my exam yesterday,” Harry says, and Louis frowns. He’d asked Harry about his exam as soon as he finished it happened yesterday, and this answer is very different than the one he’d received then.

“You said you thought you did great yesterday,” Louis says, confused. 

Harry shrugs.

“I talked to Kendall about it today because she’s in the same class, and she told me her answer to the essay question. It was completely different from mine, and that question is like 40 percent of the test grade,” Harry says, and Louis exhales through his nose, frustration spreading throughout his body. 

“Harry, babe, you do realize that Kendall is a total bonehead, right? Why are you trusting that her answer is correct and not yours? Yesterday, you felt great about it, and your first instincts are usually correct, right?” Harry sighs and nods. “So don’t worry about it. If you get a bad grade, then you can deal with it then, but until you get that exam back, you should trust yourself and not listen to anyone else.” 

Louis wiggles closer, leaning into Harry’s chest and intertwining their legs so their entire bodies are touching. He then lets a small sigh of relief escape, grateful that there isn’t anything more serious wrong. Harry gets really worked up about his grades sometimes and needs some time to pout about it, but once he talks about whatever he’s worried about, he tends to feel better. Louis assumes that’s what will happen this time — and though he won't say it again until he receives confirmation and can offer Harry a proper "I told you so," he also assumes that Kendall was wrong on the exam and Harry was right. 

Louis listens to Harry’s steady breathing for a while as they just lie there, and he’s just started to feel himself dozing off when Harry’s voice sounds in his ear.

“Ben wants me out as president,” Harry whispers, and ah, yes. There it is. The real reason Harry is upset. 

Louis’ eyes shoot open and he moves away from Harry slightly, just enough that he can look at him properly.

“What the fuck?” Louis asks.

Harry sighs and sits up, leaning against his headboard with his legs straight out in front of him, gesturing vaguely toward his thighs. Louis takes the invitation and scoots into Harry’s lap, wrapping his arms around his neck and leaning in to kiss his cheek as he waits for Harry to explain what’s going on. 

“I kinda suspected because as you know, he bitched very loudly last year when I was elected,” Harry says. Louis gently plays with the curls at the base of Harry’s neck while he speaks. “I knew he wanted the presidency, we all knew, but I didn’t fucking ask for it, you know? I was elected by my brothers, and I respect my fraternity, so of course I wasn’t going to turn it down. I’m honored to do it and I think I’m good at it, but—”

“You are,” Louis interrupts. “I mean, I fucking hate frats, I hate most of the shit that’s involved in this organization, but you’re the best person, and you deserve this, Harry, and I know you’re good at it. Great at it, even.” Louis opens his mouth to continue, but Harry leans forward to kiss him quiet. 

“Kitten, can you please let me speak?” Harry says, laughing softly, and Louis grimaces. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes, but Harry just looks at him with a soft look on his face.

“Anyway, the last couple of weeks, there have been rumblings. Ever since Ben got caught with coke and I had to deal with it, a bunch of the guys have approached me and said that he’s been making little comments all the time. And it’s not like I’m worried, not at all, actually, because I know that all my brothers have my back, except him, I guess, and I know that it was an almost unanimous decision for me to be president. Ben can’t do anything to me, not really, but having him in this house, a part of this brotherhood, when he’s talking shit about me behind my back every second...” 

Harry trails off, and Louis reaches forward to brush an errant curl off his forehead. 

“I’m not going to pretend to understand all of this frat stuff,” Louis says. “But I think I understand why you’re upset. You feel like you have a brother who doesn’t support you, who’s trying to question your authority or whatever, and it upsets the entire brotherhood, but there’s nothing you can really do about it, so you feel helpless. Or something like that.” 

Harry laughs and cups Louis' chin, reaching up to move his thumb over Louis’ lips.

“Something like that,” Harry agrees.

“I’ve always said that Ben was a fucking prick,” Louis says, biting down gently on Harry’s thumb and startling another laugh out of Harry. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry says, pulling Louis in closer and licking into his mouth. It's a rather effective end to the conversation.

Louis doesn’t end up making it to Liam’s room that night, or back downstairs to say hello to the other brothers, for that matter, but he wakes up with Harry drooling on the pillow next to him, the echo of a smile on his face, looking much more peaceful and happy than he had when Louis arrives, so Louis still considers it a win. 

 

\--

 

Next time Louis considers saying yes when Liam asks him to come over and play video games with him and some of his frat brothers, Louis really needs to remember that the only correct answer to that generous offer is to say "abso-fucking-lutely not."

Here’s the thing — Louis loves playing video games, and Louis loves being messy, and Louis loves being loud when he’s with his friends. Louis loves all of those things within reason, but “reason” is not a word that frat boys seem familiar with, and Louis never fucking learns.

“Fuck off, Liam,” Niall yells, clearly trying to be heard over the loud argument currently taking place between two sophomore brothers that Louis still hasn’t bothered to learn the names of. “You can’t even get off the third fucking level, and you think you can come for me? No fucking way, bro.” 

Louis almost never gets headaches, but if he stays in here for a second longer, he’s going to develop one. That or he's going to explode.

On the floor right beside the couch where Louis would ideally step if he wanted to get up, there are about eight different open chip bags and a pile of crumpled napkins from where Jeff was eating wings earlier, but Louis doesn’t want to deal with it. He’s pretty sure a brother named Xander just got hit in the face with a Wii controller and his eye is swelling up, but Louis doesn’t want to deal with that either. 

When Louis’ phone buzzes on the coffee table, he leans forward and grabs it before any of the other obnoxious humans in the room get the chance. It’s a text from H, of course, and Louis smiles, unlocking his phone to read the message.

_Meet me in the pantry. Xx._

Louis frowns. He’s pretty sure he’s seen the inside of the frat house’s pantry, which is really just a closet, only once in the last three or so years, so he’s not sure why Harry wants to meet him in there, but Louis will do literally anything to get out of this room.

Louis eyes the trash on the floor at his feet again and makes the executive decision to just hop over the back of the couch, ignoring the shrieks from Niall when Louis' movement upsets the balance of the couch cushions and sends Niall tipping over at a crucial moment in his game.

Louis honestly couldn’t care less.

When Louis is out of the game room, he closes the door behind him, sighing in relief at the blissful silence. There are other brothers in the house, of course, and Louis is sure they make noise periodically, but compared to the level of sound in the room he just left, Louis is pretty sure that even sirens would sound quiet to him right now.

Louis tiptoes toward the kitchen, trying to be stealthy even though there aren’t currently any other brothers in sight. When he pushes the door to the kitchen open, he sees Harry there, removing a pan of brownies from the oven and placing them on the top of the stove to cool.

He turns around when he hears Louis enter, a pleased smile on his face, and though Louis was in a terrible mood seconds before, he can’t help but smile back. 

“You said to meet you in the pantry, not the kitchen,” Louis says, taking a few steps toward Harry.

“I thought it’d take you a few minutes longer to dig your way out of that mess, honestly,” Harry says, laughing.

“Why did I agree to play video games with those animals?” Louis groans, closing the last steps of distance between them and leaning his head against Harry’s chest. 

“You have fun with the guys,” Harry says matter-of-factly, and Louis shakes his head. “Yeah, you do,” Harry continues. “You’re just pissy right now because Liam called you out for cheating.” 

Louis lifts his head and glares at Harry.

“I don’t cheat,” he starts, but Harry just gives him an unamused look. 

“You spent all your grocery money last month buying cheat codes, Lou,” Harry reminds him gently, and Louis wishes he’d never told Harry about that. He could’ve made up an excuse to get Harry to cook for him every time he ran out of dining hall meals for the week, but he chose to be honest and now, he has to pay the price. 

Harry laughs at Louis’ grumpy expression and kisses him until he’s no longer frowning. 

“Wait, why’d you want me to meet you in the pantry?” Louis asks, remembering that he doesn't know why he was summoned here in the first place. Harry looks confused for a second too, as though he forgot his train of thought, but then he snaps out of it.

“Oh,” Harry says sheepishly. “I thought we could just make out in there for a while.” 

Louis grins. 

“Alright, babe,” he says, stepping out of Harry’s grip and walking toward the door that leads to the pantry. He flings it open, poking his head in to examine the small space, as it’s been a while since he saw it. There’s just enough room for Louis and Harry to fit in there comfortably. Louis turns back to Harry, who’s taking his apron off and hanging it on a hook.

“I’ve just gotta go tell the guys not to touch the brownies, so wait for me in there, okay?” Harry asks, and Louis nods, immediately stepping into the pantry, flicking on the light, and closing the door behind him. 

Harry isn’t able to control the brothers’ messes in a lot of the frat house, but the kitchen and pantry are places where he spends a lot of time, since he has such a love for cooking and baking, and Louis can see his influence on the shelves of food and beverages lining the walls in front of him. 

It’s not ridiculously organized, but it’s tidy, which is something that can’t be said about the rest of the house, aside from that one day a month when Harry makes all the brothers clean their shit up somewhat. If Harry didn’t do that, the entire brotherhood of Lambda Chi would probably be dead from some kind of disease by now.

Louis isn’t in the pantry by himself for more than a few minutes before he hears footsteps in the kitchen, and Louis freezes for a moment, unable to stop the fear from coursing through his body, but a moment later, the door opens and Harry walks in.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Harry says, tipping his snapback in a terrible imitation of someone with class. 

Louis rolls his eyes and wraps his arms around Harry’s neck, kissing him fiercely. 

“Good afternoon baking?” Louis asks in between kisses. 

“Yeah,” Harry says, leaning in to kiss Louis again and then pulling back. “Gonna make you that banana bread recipe you like later too,” he says before diving back in.

Louis lets Harry bite his lip and shivers slightly at the feeling. 

“Thanks, babe,” he says, still choosing to punctuate every word with a kiss. “Always taking care of me,” he adds, his chest tightening at the truth in his words. 

Harry pulls back and smiles. 

“Each other,” he says, and his dimple is showing, so Louis has to kiss him again. 

“Huh?” Louis asks then, pulling back with confusion, but Harry just goes with the flow, moving his lips down to Louis' neck and sucking at his pulse point. 

“We take care of each other, baby,” Harry says, and Louis whimpers when Harry digs his teeth into his neck slightly. 

“Cheesy,” Louis says, but he lets Harry push him back until he’s leaning against the one wall in the pantry that isn’t line with shelves. Harry moves back up to Louis’ lips, kissing him thoroughly enough that Louis forgets what he just said, and then pulls back.

“But true,” Harry says smugly, and Louis still can’t remember what this conversation is even about, but he doesn’t really care. It’s only been a few minutes, but making out isn’t enough for Louis. Not today. 

Louis pushes at Harry’s chest until he takes a step away from Louis' body, and then Louis motions for Harry to replace him in leaning against the wall. Harry goes willingly, and as soon as he’s in position, Louis drops down to his knees. Harry’s jeans are tight as fuck today, but Louis always did love a challenge. 

“Want you to fuck my mouth,” Louis says, popping the button open on Harry’s jeans and trying to pull them down. Harry reaches down to help him out, and together, they pull his jeans and boxers down to his lower thighs, giving Louis enough space to work with and Harry enough room to thrust forward without hindrance.

“You sure, Lou?” Harry asks, and Louis knows he’s genuinely asking, but the hardening length in front of him is all he needs to be sure. “Last time your voice was fucked.” 

Louis just nods absently, leaning forward to give a kitten lick to the tip of Harry’s cock. 

“You said yourself I was being pissy before, right?” Louis asks. “I need this to snap me out of it.” 

Harry groans above him, and Louis can hear his head thud against the wall behind him. Louis grins.

Louis strokes Harry’s cock until it reaches full hardness, which doesn’t take more than a few minutes, and he spends that time periodically leaning in to lick around the head. It’s not effective blowjob technique, but Louis knows it’s a pretty sight for Harry — to see Louis on his knees before him, tongue darting out to lick at him like he can’t get enough, like he can’t even wait a few more minutes to get started.

“Fuck, fuck, Lou, baby,” Harry says when Louis swallows him down immediately, pushing down on Harry’s cock until his nose is nestled in Harry’s pubic hair. Louis lets his gag reflex work around the length in his throat for a few seconds, knowing it feels good for Harry, and when Harry’s hands finally clutch Louis’ hair, he knows he’s done well. 

Harry sometimes tries to hold himself back when they do stuff like this. He tries to be a gentleman, Louis knows, but Louis also knows that sometimes, Harry really just wants to manhandle him and make him take it, as long as that’s what Louis wants to. And it is. It always is. 

Louis pulls back when his eyes start watering too much for him to tolerate, and Harry keeps his hands in Louis’ hair, but loosens his grip enough that Louis doesn’t feel like he’ll end up being bald by the end of this sexual encounter. 

Louis gives himself a short break, sucking around the head and running long licks along the underside of Harry’s cock, but after a couple more minutes, he decides it’s time to go all the way down again. Harry isn’t surprised when Louis deepthroats him this time, but he is surprised when Louis starts to hum after his lips reach the base of Harry’s cock. Harry gasps in surprise, and Louis keeps at it until Harry’s hips jerk forward involuntarily, catching Louis off guard and making him gag. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry repeats, seemingly working on a limited vocabulary, but Louis just waves him off. 

“Good?” Louis asks when he pulls back, wiping at the tears gathered in the corner of his eyes.

He looks up at Harry, who is looking down at him with the kind of adoration that Louis will never feel worthy of, though he’s seen it hundreds of times by now. 

“So good, kitten,” Harry says, almost choking out the praise, his voice raw and honest. “Always so good for me. Wouldn’t change a fucking thing about you.”

“Love you,” Louis says. His voice is already shot to hell, and he knows it’s all downhill from here.

“Love you too, baby,” Harry says, moving one of his hands from Louis’ hair to stroke his cheekbone with a gentleness that doesn’t match with what he’s about to do, but it’s still somehow perfect in the moment.

Louis leans forward and wraps his mouth around Harry’s dick again, hollowing his cheeks and slurping and probably producing a disgusting amount of saliva, but after a few seconds, he nods, giving Harry the signal.

They’ve done this numerous times by now, and Harry always starts it out the same way — short but forceful thrusts, just testing the waters, and when Louis makes it clear that he can take it, as he always does, Harry really goes for it, pushing his cock in and out of Louis’ mouth at a brutal pace, making him gag and whimper. Louis squeezes his eyes closed, the tears flowing freely now. He can hear Harry groaning above him, probably far too loudly considering the circumstances, but Louis fucking adores this, always has. Harry’s in control, but there’s a different kind of power that comes from being on your knees. Louis thrives on that power. 

Louis can feel Harry getting close, his thrusts into Louis’ mouth growing sloppy, and after another minute or so, Louis feels the hot rush of come down his throat. Louis swallows around him, and when Harry pulls out of his mouth, probably too sensitive, some of the come dribbles down the sides of Louis’ mouth. Harry doesn’t give Louis a moment to catch his breath before he pulls him up and into a standing position.

“God, baby,” Harry says, and Louis loves how Harry forgets his real name in moments like this. It’s like he can only call him baby, or kitten, or sweetheart, not Louis, or even Lou. Louis loves that he loses his mind like that. 

Harry uses his finger to swipe up some of the come dribbling down from Louis’ lips, pushing it back into Louis’ mouth, and when Louis sucks the finger in without breaking eye contact, Harry groans weakly.

“Y’wanna get off, baby?” Harry asks after a moment of them both catching their breath. He moves his hand down to squeeze at Louis’ hard dick through his joggers. 

Louis nods, not wanting to try out his voice yet because he knows it’ll sound like someone ripped the inside of his throat apart. Harry leans in to kiss him, carefully pulling Louis’ cock out at the same time, and Louis gasps at the feeling of finally being touched. 

“You’re perfect,” Harry praises, and Louis preens under the attention. He knows he probably looks utterly wrecked, but he also knows Harry loves seeing him that way, and that’s all that matters at the moment.

Harry lifts his hand up and encourages Louis to lick it, the lingering excess of saliva coming in handy, and then jerks Louis off like that, quickly and just on the right side of too dry. Louis is panting into Harry’s shoulder in what feels like no time at all, Harry whispering words of encouragement in his ear, and Louis can feel himself getting closer.

Louis is just about to give a raspy warning that he’s about to come when he hears the swing of the kitchen door opening and several voices entering the room.

“Fuck,” Louis whimpers, so close to the edge. 

“C’mon, baby,” Harry whispers, reaching his free hand out to flick off the pantry light just in case, plunging them into darkness. “You’re so close, just let go. Who cares if they hear you? All they’ll hear is you fucking loving it, my hand on your prick, my come in your mouth, my lips on your neck. That’s not so bad, right?”

Louis gasps and clutches desperately at Harry’s shoulder, Harry’s strokes growing faster, and then he can’t help himself. He bites down on his lip hard enough to draw blood and comes, all while Harry’s frat brothers stand feet away in the kitchen, casually chatting about how good the brownies smell and discussing whether or not Harry might be willing to make another batch. 

When Louis’ full body shudders finally stop, he lifts his head and seeks out Harry’s lips in the dark. Harry wipes the come on his hand off on his own shirt, tucks Louis’ dick away carefully, and kisses him right back.

“Still pissy about the video games?” Harry whispers when he pulls back, voice smug, and Louis kisses him again instead of answering.

They end up having to hide in the pantry for another half an hour, but Louis can’t complain.

 

\--

 

Another Friday night, another frat party from hell, as Louis always says.

It's not actually what he always says, as frat parties are usually a highlight for Louis based on the fact that 1) they're crazy enough that Louis is able to talk to Harry without it being weird and 2) Louis always ends the night in Harry's bed. Still, Louis still has his frat-hating reputation to uphold, so he tries to pretend.

Louis and Harry snuck up to Harry's room earlier to make out for a few minutes, but other than that, Louis hasn't seen his boyfriend much over the course of the night. Harry's been everywhere, socializing with his brothers, meeting the girls or boys his brothers are interested in, and chatting with the seemingly endless number of people who want a little bit of Harry Styles' attention, but Louis' been having quite a bit of fun on his own. He and Niall are the undefeated beer pong champions of the night, Louis and Nick bonded over how much they despise Selena Gomez's song Bad Liar (which for some bizarre reason, Harry loves), and Louis and Liam worked together to make a VIP jungle juice so strong that Louis isn't willing to drink even a single glass of it, far too threatened by the possibility that he'll get blackout drunk and miss out on the opportunity to get laid. 

Louis is a good level of tipsy at the moment, but he knows that if he drinks another beer right now, he'll bring himself a bit too far over the edge, so he decides to step outside for a few minutes instead. A smoke break and some fresh air to help clear his head is exactly what Louis needs at the moment. 

"I'm gonna go smoke," Louis shouts over the music to Niall. Niall nods in acknowledgement, and Louis begins to cut his way through the crowd of brothers crowding the ground floor of the house. He's almost at the side door out of the house when he sees Harry standing with Jeff in the hall nearby. They're laughing about something Jeff is showing Harry on his phone, but as Louis walks by, Harry glances up and meets his eye. He gives Louis a questioning look, clearly concerned that Louis is leaving or something, so Louis holds up his pack of cigarettes. 

Harry's nods in understanding. He mouths _love you,_ and Louis mouths it back just before slipping outside. 

It's a pleasant night outside, but the air is definitely chilly, and Louis has half a mind to go inside and steal a hoodie or jacket from Harry to keep himself warm for the time being. He resists the urge and lights his cigarette instead, tapping his foot along with the beat of the bass from inside. There's nobody else out here in the yard at the moment, though Louis can hear voices of people further down the street, likely other students who just left the party for the night.

Louis hums to himself and looks up at the sky, trying to count the stars that are visible between the clouds. The skin of his arms is covered in goosebumps now, and Louis tries to smoke a little faster, already regretting having come out here when he could have stayed warm and toasty inside. 

Louis is just stamping out his cigarette when he hears heavy footsteps approaching, though he can't see who they belong to because of how dark the rest of the yard is. Louis is standing on a small patio that's illuminated by a single light secured to the side of the house, and when the footsteps get close enough, the person walking toward him becomes visible.

"Oh, did someone take the trash out?" Ben spits, and Louis can tell from the slurring of his words with that one sentence that he's belligerently drunk.

Louis rolls his eyes. 

"They must've, if you're out here," Louis retorts, watching as Ben stumbles drunkenly toward the side door and turns around, facing Louis with crossed arms. Louis takes a step back, uncomfortable with how close Ben is standing to him. Ben is now between Louis and the side door, which seems less than ideal, so Louis pulls out his phone, quickly shooting a text to Harry to let him know that Ben's out here harassing him.

"If it were up to me, little pricks like you wouldn't be allowed within 100 yards of this frat house," Ben says, and Louis rolls his eyes.

"But it's not up to you, is it, Benjamin?" Louis asks mockingly. "It's up to Harry because, y'know, he's the one your brothers wanted to be president. Not you."

Louis is intentionally stepping on a nerve now, wading into dangerous territory, but he can't help himself. He knows that the Ben thing is still bothering Harry, and that unless Ben's shitty behavior and resentment stops, which seems unlikely, Harry's not going to feel any better about the situation. It's infuriating that a good person like Harry should have to deal with a scumbag like Ben.

"You should shut up and mind your own business," Ben mutters, spitting on the ground at his feet. 

_Anything involving Harry is my business,_ Louis thinks to himself, and he suddenly wishes desperately that he could say it out loud.

"This frat is only a shadow of what it would be if I'd been made president," Ben says, and Louis wants to roll his eyes again, but Ben sounds so serious that Louis is actually alarmed. "Instead, we act like a bunch of pussies. A fuckin' cleaning day once a month, baked goods in the kitchen, philanthropy shit almost every day of the fucking week. Our parties aren't even as good anymore, and the selection of sorority girls available to us gets worse and worse." 

Ben spits again, and Louis makes a sound of disgust, stepping back to prevent the saliva from landing on his shoe.

Louis will never understand how Ben managed to get into a frat house where Louis begrudgingly found friendships with almost anyone he's ever talked to. Ben's nothing like Harry, or Liam, or Niall, or even any of the brothers that Louis isn't a huge fan of. He doesn't care about anything except drugs, alcohol, and girls, and for him, having pissing contests with other frats is more important than doing good in the community. It makes Louis feel nauseous, and he can't even begin to imagine how Harry feels knowing that this man is considered his _brother_.

"God, you're every terrible frat boy stereotype rolled into one shitty package, aren't you?" Louis says, disgust coloring his voice.

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, because Ben takes a step forward and shoves Louis by the shoulders hard enough to send him sprawling back on the pavement. When Louis lands, he hits his ass hard enough for it to really hurt, and he can feel his hands throbbing slightly from having landed on the rough stone of the patio.

"What the fuck?" Louis asks, genuinely overcome with shock that Ben would behave this way. They've never gotten along, Ben and Louis, and they've had a war of words every time they've seen each other for years, but Louis never expected Ben to get violent with him. Ben has more than a few inches and pounds on him, and Louis knows there's no way in hell that he can take him if this escalates. 

Ben lowers himself down to where Louis is sprawled on the ground and fists the front of his shirt, getting his face.

"I'm done dealing with your shit, do you hear me?" Ben slurs. "Don't fucking —"

Ben never manages to finish that sentence because the side door opens, Harry stepping out like a fucking superhero, like _Louis'_ superhero, there to save the day. Liam, Nick, Niall, and Jeff all file out right behind him, and Louis assumes Harry told them all that Ben was out here acting like an asshole. 

"Jesus Christ," Nick mutters to himself as they all take in the scene before them, Louis on the ground with Ben grabbing his shirt aggressively. 

"What the fuck are you doing, Ben?" Harry asks, yanking Ben up off the ground with one arm. When Ben is on his feet, he pushes Harry off him angrily, stepping back and swaying as he gazes upon his frat brothers. Harry steps in between Louis and Ben as Niall helps Louis up off the ground, asking him quietly if he's okay. Louis just nods, keeping his eyes glued to Harry and Ben.

"You're out of control, dude," Harry says. "And I'm done dealing with it. I'm filing a report to get you formally removed from this frat. You've messed up before, but never like this. Now you've officially crossed the line." 

Ben's face turns an angry shade of red at that statement, and Niall pulls Louis back toward him, clearly corcerned about what Ben might do next.

"Listen," Jeff says, trying to step in and calm the atmosphere between Ben and Harry, which even Harry's brothers can tell seems excessively charged. 

"No," Ben says, holding up his hand. "No fucking way. You're not kicking me out of my goddamn frat because I touched this little prick. He's not my brother, and I didn't even do anything to him, but if I had, who gives a fuck? He's not my brother, he's not a part of this frat or any other, and he has no power here." 

Liam gives an uncomfortable laugh at how ridiculous that statement is, but he quickly realizes that Ben was serious when he takes a step around Harry to reach for Louis. Louis isn't exactly sure what it is that Ben plans to do to him — punch him, maybe, or push him again, or something else. It doesn't really matter what his intentions are, in the end, because Harry shoves Ben backwards before he can get any closer to Louis, and Ben responds immediately by swinging his fist in the general direction of Harry's face. 

Thanks to the alcohol, Ben's aim is terrible and his swing is slow, so it's not difficult for Harry to duck his flying fist before slamming a fist of his own into Ben's jaw. Louis winces at the sound it makes, but despite the blow and how it makes Ben saw, he manages to stay in his feet. Apparently not having learned from his mistakes, he tries to swing at Harry a second time, and this time, Harry punches him twice in rapid succession, his boxing workouts coming into great use. 

Ben goes down hard, and when Louis glances down at his face, he can see blood. 

"You don't fucking touch him," Harry says, his voice cold as ice. "You're done, Ben. You should've been done a long time ago, but you just gave me the perfect excuse. Come Monday, you're going to withdraw from Lambda Chi Alpha. You're going to withdraw, or we will be filing a police report against you for attempted assault, or battery, or whatever the fuck they want to call it, and we've got several witnesses to corroborate the story." Harry gestures toward Liam, Niall, Nick, and Jeff, whose faces are still frozen with shock. "And I want you moved out of the house by the Tuesday."

Harry turns his attention to his audience. 

"Inside," Harry says, gesturing to the side door. Niall snaps to attention first, opening the door and walking inside, but not before he glances between Harry and Louis. Harry isn't looking at Louis yet, but Louis can't tear his eyes off him. Liam follows Niall, doing a similar glance pattern first, and then Jeff and Nick follow. Finally, it's just Louis, Harry, and Ben, who's now gotten himself into a sitting position and is muttering angrily about how much he hates Harry. 

Harry ignores him.

"Lou," Harry says, gesturing again toward the door. Louis breaks out of his stupor and follows the other brothers inside, Harry right at his heels.

Rather than return to the party, Louis and Harry break off and go straight upstairs, neither of them in the mood to bother with subtlety. Louis feels eyes on them as they go, but nobody comments. Louis knows that Liam, Niall, Jeff, and Nick are probably a bit confused by what they might perceive as an excessively angry reaction from Harry at seeing Louis get hurt, but Louis also knows that they'll still probably jump to innocent conclusions about why Harry and Louis are going upstairs together. They'll likely assume that Louis and Harry are just going to talk about what just happened, or maybe just clean up their wounds together, and those assumptions aren’t incorrect, but they also don’t tell the whole story. 

As soon as they’re in Harry’s bedroom, Harry locks the door and secures his mouth to Louis', tugging him toward the bed without allowing their mouths to detach for even a second. While they stumble across the room, Harry attempts to strip all of Louis’ clothing off of his upper body, and Louis helps, of course, but he’s not working fast enough for Harry, whose entire body is still shaking with adrenaline. 

“Babe,” Louis says exasperatedly as Harry gives up on his shirt and ends up ripping it, frantically pulling the shredded bits off of Louis’ body. 

“Harry,” Louis tries again, pulling back from Harry’s frantic kisses, but Harry doesn’t stop, instead just pulling Louis' jeans off, making him wince slightly as they move over his ass, which is still sore from falling outside. 

“Harry, don’t make me use my fucking safeword,” Louis says forcefully as Harry reaches for his boxers, and Harry’s freezes at that, straightening out and finally meeting Louis’ eyes. His pupils are dilated, and Louis can see a slight tremor in his hands, which are still bloody. 

“Sorry,” Harry says, his voice cracking. He clears his throat. “Sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” 

Louis shakes his head and reaches for Harry, pulling him into a hug. Harry buries his face in Louis’ neck, and Louis does the same, tucking his face into Harry's neck and rubbing soothing circles on his back as they hug. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Harry,” Louis says softly. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. You were scaring me, just now, you know? I just want to make sure you’re okay.” 

“The thought of something happening to you, kitten,” Harry murmurs, his breath hot against Louis’ neck. 

“Nothing happened to me, babe,” Louis says gently, but he feels Harry shake his head. 

“You got hurt, and it could’ve been much worse,” Harry says, voice serious. “I can’t deal with — just please don’t do that again, okay? Don’t get into a situation like that, not if you can help it. It’s not worth it. It’s never ever worth it.” 

“I’m sorry,” Louis whispers. 

Louis feels the press of Harry’s lips against his pulse point. 

“You didn’t know he’d go off like that,” Harry says. “None of us did.” 

They stand there together, arms held tightly around each other, until the adrenaline stops coursing through Harry’s body and making him shake. When Louis finally hears Harry let out a deep breath, something close to a sigh of relief, Louis allows himself to pull back. 

“Let’s clean up your hands,” Louis says. “Go sit down and I’ll track down some disinfectant.” 

Harry nods and walks over to his bed, pulling his shirt and jeans off before he sits down. Louis wanders into the hallway in only his boxers, not finding it in him to care whether someone will run into him or not. It only takes him a couple of minutes to find some Neosporin and gauze in the medicine cabinet in the third floor bathroom, which he figures will get the job done well enough, and when he returns to Harry’s bedroom, he finds his boyfriend sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him patiently. 

Louis goes and sits down next to him, taking one of Harry’s larger hands in his two smaller ones, examining the damage done to his knuckles. It’s not bad, all things considered, made better by the fact that Harry didn’t hit him more than a few times and by the fact that Harry knows how to punch someone properly.

They don’t speak while Louis works, carefully cleaning out the cuts and wrapping them up as best he can. It’s not an ideal situation and Louis is no medical expert, but Louis hopes Harry won’t be feeling much pain within a few days. 

When he’s finished with his task, Harry leans in and kisses him deeply. They pull back from each other after a couple of minutes, and Louis is relieved to see that the fear from earlier is no longer in Harry's eyes or facial expression.

“I want to take care of your injuries too,” Harry says, and Louis frowns. 

“There are small scrapes on my hands, but not enough to warrant major attention,” Louis says, chuckling slightly.

“Not talking about your hands,” Harry says, a smile slowly spreading across his face, and Louis groans. 

“You’re the fucking worst,” Louis says, but Harry just laughs, seeming like he's back to his usual self. He motions for Louis to lay face down on the bed. 

Louis feels Harry settle behind him, and when Harry’s hands touch the waistline of his boxers, Louis lifts his hips to allow Harry to slide them down his ass and legs, eventually pulling them off entirely and tossing them somewhere for Louis to try to find when he’s half asleep in the morning. 

Louis’ feels Harry’s lips at the base of his spine, kissing at the small dimples there. Louis lets out a sigh, enjoying the feeling of Harry’s soft lips on his skin. 

Harry moves lower then, of course, kissing along what Louis assumes are already forming bruises from where he fell. Every touch is incredibly gentle, so gentle that Louis can barely feel it, but he lets Harry work, knowing that this is something Harry needs as much as Louis does. 

Eventually, when every inch of Louis’ bruises have been caressed by Harry’s lips, Louis feels his hands settle on his cheeks, bandaged knuckles and all, spreading him apart so that Harry has access to Louis’ hole. Louis isn’t surprised, of course, but he huffs out a laugh anyway.

“Gotta make sure my favorite parts of you are okay,” Harry says, laughter in his voice, and Louis snorts.

“Gee, thanks,” Louis says, and Harry just presses a kiss to his hole in response. 

Louis lets out a shiver at the sensation, but he digs his nails into his own palms, knowing that Harry is probably going to make this as long and drawn out as possible, which means Louis is here for the long haul.

After far too long with Harry doing nothing more than breathing on and pressing the occasional soft kiss to Louis’ hole, Harry finally gives him the first bit of tongue, a simple lick, but it quickly turns into more. Harry opens Louis up with his tongue slowly, occasionally using his hands to spread Louis's cheeks further apart and give himself more access, and it doesn't take much of that to get Louis pushing his hips down into the bed and begging for more.

Harry has always eaten Louis out the same way, ever since the first time they did this. He starts out neat until Louis opens up a bit, but then immediately transitions into deep wet licks inside. Harry always acts like he can't get enough, whether he's having Louis sit on his face or just diving in unexpectedly when Louis is still waking up in the mornings, and his enthusiasm shows. Harry also loves opening Louis up with two fingers and then adding his tongue to circle around the digits, making things even more wet and hot, and that’s what he does this time, though his fingers don’t have as much flexibility as usual because of the bandages around his knuckles. 

Louis cries, of course, unable to help himself when Harry’s warm tongue pushes inside, a promise of bigger and hotter things to come, and Louis can’t help but push his hips against the bed harder in response, rapidly driving himself toward climax.

Harry pulls back suddenly, and Louis groans in frustration.

“Do you want to come like this, or do you want to come on my cock?” Harry asks, and god, Louis is so fucking close, but when those two options are presented to him, there’s really only one answer.

“On your cock, on your cock,” Louis says, scrambling to flip over onto his back, wanting this to be face to face and knowing that Harry wants the same after what happened tonight. While Harry strips off his boxers, exposing his neglected cock, which is rock hard and leaking, Louis takes the opportunity to push three fingers inside himself, hoping to open himself up the last little bit. 

Harry spreads lube on his cock quickly, jerking himself off a couple of times to spread it out evenly, with the excess left on his fingers, he nudges Louis’ fingers out of the way and replaces them with his own, which are larger and more slick now, though they still can’t maneuver as deeply and easily as they normally would. It gets the job done well enough, and Louis is far too impatient to care how thoroughly he's prepped anyway. He just needs this now.

“Babe, get inside me,” Louis begs, and Harry doesn’t need further instruction. Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s hips and Harry braces his weight on his arms as he pushes in. Someone cries out immediately at the feeling, but Louis can’t tell if it’s him, or Harry, or both of them. 

Louis feels so fucking full, and it’s not just the fact that he has Harry fucking into him fast and deep, it’s everything. Louis’ heart and body and mind feel so fucking full of Harry, and full of love for him, and full of gratitude for what they’ve gotten through together, and it’s so overwhelming.

Louis can tell that it is for Harry too. His brow is furrowed with concentration and he keeps moving his gaze from Louis’ face down to where Harry is pounding into him, and with every drive of his hips, Harry lets out a small grunt like he can't help himself. Louis is sure this will make the soreness of his ass significantly worse, what with Harry's hips slapping against Louis' ass and his dick going as deep inside as ever, but Louis can’t bring himself to care, can’t even feel the pain anymore, not when the feeling of being fucked within an inch of his life is overtaking every sense. 

“I love you so much, baby,” Harry says, pushing in once more and staying there, filling Louis up. He can barely hold himself up above Louis, his orgasm is that intense, and the friction of his stomach rubbing against Louis’ dick crosses Louis over the threshold easily enough. 

“I love you too,” Louis says, barely able to get the words out as the intensity of his orgasm wracks his body with shivers.

Harry leans down and kisses Louis again, suddenly realizing that the sex was too intense for them to manage much more than panting into each others' mouths and wanting to make up for it. When he pulls back, he also goes to pull out, but Louis puts a hand on his shoulder and shakes his head.

“Just,” Louis says, hesitating. “Stay in me for a bit. Please.” 

Harry nods and kisses Louis’ sweaty forehead. 

"Whatever you want, kitten," he says.

Though Harry is still bracing some of his weight on his arms to avoid smothering him, Louis can still feel the heavy pressure of Harry on top of him, and he's grateful for that. Louis wants to reminder that Harry is there, inside him and around him and everywhere. That he’s always there. 

It’s overwhelming and all encompassing, but it’s good. It’s so good.

 

\--

 

When Louis wakes up in the morning and sees Harry next to him, face slack and peaceful with sleep, hair tousled and soft, knuckles likely scabbing over beneath the bandages, he realizes that he can’t remember a single fucking reason why he didn’t want to scream his relationship with Harry from the rooftops the moment they fell into bed together all those months ago. 

This boy, who loves Louis with everything he has and who takes care of him and who protects him, and who Louis loves with everything he has and takes care of and protects right back, he’s worth any amount of teasing that Louis will endure from his friends and the other members of Harry's frat. Their relationship while they were hiding it from the world was amazing, but Louis knows it’s going to get even better. 

They've been hurdling toward this for a long time, even more so in the last few weeks, and Louis is helpless to stop it, but more importantly, he doesn't want to stop it. In the end, the decision is less of a decision, and more of an inevitable conclusion. Louis just needed to accept it. 

 

\--

 

The date auction is by far the most embarrassing Lambda Chi Alpha fraternity event of the year, and that's saying something. Every year, it's the event that all of the brothers dread the most, but it's also the event that the rest of campus looks forward to the most, which is why they haven't been able to discontinue it, regardless of how much they beg and moan and plead. 

The way it works is really quite simple. All of the members of the frat are auctioned off for a single date with whoever bids highest for them. Since no brother is obligated to do anything more than attend the date, which often ends up being something awkward and platonic anyway, even those with significant others have to participate, much to the dismay of the boyfriends and girlfriends of Lambda Chi members.

Louis knows that Harry has been dreading this for ages because Harry has whined endlessly about it, and Louis has gotten a lot of enjoyment out of teasing him about it. That being said, if pressed, Louis would probably admit that the idea of Harry going on even the most platonic date in the world with someone who bought him in an auction makes steam come out of Louis' ears.

It's just one date though, so it'll be totally fine.

Or at least, that's what Louis tells Harry to reassure him as he's fixing Harry's tie roughly a half an hour before the auction is scheduled to begin. 

"I don't want to go," Harry whines for the hundredth time. 

"It'll be fine," Louis says, tired of repeating himself. "Unless that weird girl who used to follow you around campus bids on you. What's her name?"

Harry know exactly who Louis is talking about, and he gets a look of absolute horror on his face at the prospect. Louis bites back a laugh.

"Her nickname is Boopsy," Harry answers, looking like his life just flashed before his eyes.

"You're a senior in college," Louis says, keeping his voice speculative as he smooths his hand over the arm of Harry's suit jacket. "That means it's her last chance to try to win you, both figuratively and literally. Maybe you should've gotten a restraining order after all," Louis says, referencing a joke that Harry used to tell during the period of time when Boopsy would show up near his classes and Lambda Chi events on a near daily basis. 

Harry takes a step back from Louis and crosses his arms.

"Hilarious," Harry says, and Louis preens, as though he's really taking the sarcastic compliment to heart. "I'm so glad you're entertained by the fact that I'm going to completely miserable all day. Just keep in mind that I'll be bringing my misery home with me, kitten, and that's gonna make tonight a rough night for you too."

Harry's pouting for real now, so Louis allows himself one more laugh at Harry's expense before wrapping his arms around Harry's neck, kissing him hard on the mouth.

"Babe, it'll be fine, alright? I promise," Louis reassures him, reaching out to smooth his collar one more time. 

Harry still looks grumpy despite Louis' reassurances, so Louis throws him a bone and makes out with him for the last fifteen minutes before he has to go onstage and sell his soul. When one of Harry's brothers finally comes in to pull him away, several minutes behind schedule, Harry looks thoroughly debauched and turned on rather than emotionally distressed, and Louis figures that's an improvement, if only because he doesn't plan on actually letting his boyfriend near someone else today.

Louis told Harry that he was going to head home when the auction began, informing him that he has absolutely no interest in watching his boyfriend get auctioned off to someone else, but in reality, Louis goes to meet Zayn in the lobby of the building where the auction is happening. The auction is going in alphabetical order according to last name, so Louis and Zayn have a while to wait, but they manage to sneak in while Niall is auctioning off one of the brothers with a C name. 

They get two seats near the back row, and thankfully, Louis doesn't see anyone back there that he recognizes. Louis doesn't want anyone important to see him until the moment that Harry sees him, as he doesn't want to spoil the surprise, so Louis keeps his head down and whispers quietly to Zayn while the auction proceeds.

Niall and Nick both end up with fairly normal college students as their buyers, which ruins some of the jokes Louis had planned for them later, but when an elderly woman wins a date with Liam, Louis feels like his entire life has been made. The only reason Louis doesn't burst into hysterical laughter and give himself away is because Zayn hisses to him that he has "the most obnoxious and recognizable laugh in the audience" and that if he doesn't "shut the hell up," he's going to ruin his entire plan and therefore his relationship. That sounds like a bit of a stretch, but still, Louis bites his fist to prevent the giggles from being audible to anyone more than a few feet away. In his head, however, he immediately begins planning out the jokes he'll tell at Liam's expense in the future.

Finally, after more than an hour, they reach the S names. There are three members of the frat with a last name that starts with S, and Harry is the second of three. Louis doesn't pay attention to the first brother with an S name get auctioned off, instead choosing to watch Harry, who is standing off to the side of the stage looking very uncomfortable. 

Louis feels a little bad for teasing him earlier, but he thinks he's about to make up for it. 

"And now, our very own Lambda Chi Alpha president, Mr. Harry Styles," Niall says finally, jerking Louis out of his thoughts. Zayn taps the bid paddle on Louis' knee frantically, and Louis grabs it, clutching it in his hand like a lifetime. There are nerves coursing through Louis' body, but beneath that, there is also a current of excitement and pure joy at what's about to happen. That, along with what Louis knows Harry's face will look like when this is all over, is the only thing that prevents Louis from vomiting and running out of the auction room. 

"This one's a real winner, folks, so let's get this started. Bid starts at $15, though of course, we all know Harry Styles is worth way more than that," Niall says, and Louis already wants to smack him across the face a little bit, but it's fine. 

Louis throws his arm up in the air to bid $15, but so does about thirty other people in the room. Louis hears Zayn groan beside him. 

"Please, for the love of god, don't spend your life savings," Zayn whispers as the bid inches up to $75, but Louis ignores him, throwing his arm up in the air once again. It goes like this for a while, and Louis watches as the number of hands bidding goes down as the price climbs. Louis is starting to sweat himself, honestly, especially when the price goes above $250, officially making Harry the highest buy of the day.

When Niall asks for $300, the number of hands finally drops down to two, and Louis exhales, praying with every fiber of his being that this will end okay for him. When Louis confessed everything to Zayn and told him about his plan a couple of weeks ago, Zayn offered to sell one of his pieces of artwork and let Louis use the proceeds to bid for Harry, knowing that otherwise, Louis would end up emptying his bank account just because he has such a flair for dramatics. Louis has $400 dollars from Zayn's sale in his pocket right now, but beyond that, he's going to be reaching into his own savings, so he just has to hope for the best.

"$350," Niall says, and Louis feels a bead of sweat drip down his cheek in slow motion.

"$375," Niall says, and Louis holds his breath for longer than is probably healthy.

"$400," Niall says, and Louis feels his heart drop out of his ass.

Out of his peripheral vision, Louis sees Zayn bury his face in his hands . 

"I can't go any higher," Louis hears a female voice say.

It's the other bidder. It's the other fucking bidder tapping out. 

Zayn breathes for the first time in what seems like twenty minutes, and finally feels like he can breathe again. 

"Alright, so can the other bidder go higher than $400?" Niall asks, clapping his hands together as his gaze seeks out Louis, who is far enough back in the room that he can't really be identified properly from the stage. 

Louis can see Harry staring into the audience as well, trying to figure out who it is that's willing to pay over $400 for a date with him, and Louis sinks lower in his chair. 

"How about $401?" Niall asks, clearly calling out in Louis' direction. "Are you willing to bid $401 and win a date with Harry Styles?" 

Louis throws his paddle up in the air without hesitation, officially bidding $401 and winning Harry Styles in the Lambda Chi Alpha date auction. 

"$401, there it is, sold to the man in the back. Come up onstage and meet your date," Niall says excitedly, and Louis gets to his feet slowly. He recognizes that everyone's eyes are on him, since everyone in the room wants to know who is crazy enough to spend that much money for a date, but Louis only cares about one set of eyes. 

He can tell the exact moment when Harry recognizes that it's him, and Louis isn't exaggerating when he says that his boyfriend's jaw drops. Niall recognizes him second, and that jaw drop is closely followed by the audible gasps of Liam and who he thinks might be Nick from the audience, where they've been sitting and waiting for the auction to finish. 

"What in the..." Niall trails off, looking from Louis to Harry in confusion as Louis makes his way down the aisle. 

Louis is too scared to look up at anyone's faces until he's climbing the stairs to the stage, and when he finally does raise his eyes, he sees a look of complete and utter shock on Harry's face. Louis can hear from Niall's voice that he's similarly surprised, but he catches himself quickly.

"Um, right, okay, that's weird, so, um, yeah. Here is Harry Styles and his date for the day, Louis Tomlinson," Niall says, voice wavering slightly, but he motions toward Louis and Harry, encouraging them to give each other a hug onstage just as all of the other date couples did.

When Louis and Harry wrap their arms around each other, Louis immediately sinks into Harry's embrace, and Harry clutches his back tightly, holding on for dear life. Louis knows Harry well enough to realize that he's probably worried about Louis spending that much money, so Louis reassures him before they pull back from the hug.

"Zayn sold a painting and gave me the cash, so you can relax," he says. Louis watches while at least part of the tension leaves Harry's body, and he can't help but roll his eyes. Louis knows he's irresponsible on rare occasions, like with that whole cheating using grocery money thing, but come on. Louis needs to have a chat with Harry about having a little faith in him, for god's sake.

Niall is about to wave them offstage, but instead of following the typical procedure, Louis snatches the microphone straight out of his hand.

“After all that money I just spent on you for charity, the least you could do is give me a kiss,” Louis says into the mic, his voice projecting to everyone in their room — their friends, Harry's frat brothers, other members of the student body, and members of the community at large. Louis hands the mic back to Niall and turns to Harry, schooling his expression into an innocent one, but when he sees Harry’s face light up with understanding, it’s hard to keep the smile off his face.

Harry takes a step toward Louis and lets his hands grasp Louis’ hips, pulling him in and squeezing him tightly once as a warning, as though Harry wants to check whether Louis is certain he really wants to do this. They could play it off as a joke still, of course, but Louis doesn't want that. Louis wants something else entirely. 

Rather than responding to Harry's warning, Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and raises one eyebrow.

It’s a challenge, of course, but Harry’s up for it.

Louis can feel Harry’s smile against his mouth when he leans in. He doesn’t bother to ease into it, to make it look like this is the first kiss everyone in the audience probably assumes it to be — instead, Harry slips his tongue into Louis’ mouth immediately and moves his hands up to cradle Louis’ jaw, and Louis kisses back with an ease and familiarity that he's only ever found with this boy. Only ever _will_ find with this boy.

It’s hard to concentrate on anything other than Harry’s lips and hands on him, but Louis knows that everyone is cheering for them.

“I fucking knew it,” Niall says, voice booming into the microphone.

“I’m so confused,” Louis hears Liam say from the front row. 

Louis can't help but smile into the kiss, tugging the curls at the base of Harry's neck and making him groan. They pull apart to breathe for a moment, but their eyes stay glued on one another.

“I love you,” Harry says, and Louis shrugs, feigning nonchalance. 

“You’re alright,” Louis says, smiling softly. "For a frat boy." 

Harry smiles back, completely tuning out the whooping of his frat brothers in the background.

“You can’t fool me, sweetheart,” Harry says.

He’s right, of course. Louis never could. 

"I love you too," Louis says finally, hoping his face conveys how much of an understatement those words feel like in this moment. 

He barely has time to take another breath because Harry is kissing him again, and before Louis even realizes what’s happening, he feels himself being leaned backwards into an actual romantic comedy style dip. It’s overdramatic and ridiculous and there’s no way every single one of Harry’s annoying frat brothers isn’t taking a million and a half shitty iPhone videos and photos of this very moment, building up plenty of material to tease Harry and Louis in the future, but Louis can’t bring himself to care.

Louis fucking hates frats, but damn, he’s really fucking in love with this frat boy. 

 

\--


	2. Drabble - The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I received many drabble requests for this fic, and the most popular was for me to write about when Harry and Louis first got together. This was meant to be a short snippet for Tumblr, but once it passed 4K words, I decided to add it here.

At a certain point in the night during any frat party, nearly every person within the vicinity is drunk enough that their reflexes have slowed and they’re too distracted to pick up on certain things happening around them. That point in the night is the perfect time for any mischievous activity to take place, so of course, that’s when Louis decides to strike. 

When Niall pulled booze out of the freezer to add to the jungle juice earlier, Louis zeroed in on a bottle of Grey Goose that someone had hidden behind a box of Popsicles. 

Now that Louis is a junior in college, he has over two years of experience drinking cheap vodka that comes in plastic bottles and tastes like rubbing alcohol, so when he spots something that’s higher quality, he can’t resist. Now that he has a chance to snatch it without anyone noticing, he refuses to let it go to waste.

Louis glances around the kitchen quickly, eyes falling on two small groups of frat brothers chatting amongst themselves. They’re laughing too loudly and swaying slightly because of how drunk they are, but most importantly, they’re not paying him any attention.

Despite the fact that they seem sufficiently distracted, Louis maintains a facade of innocence as he grabs a solo cup from the clean stack on the counter. The sink is right by the fridge, so Louis pauses in front of it as though he’s about to fill his cup with water before checking to make sure the coast is still clear. Sure enough, the two groups of brothers are still caught up in their drunken conversations. 

Louis doesn’t waste more time, instead pulling the freezer door open with one hand and carefully retrieving the Grey Goose bottle. It’s already been opened, thankfully, so Louis just has to unscrew the top and start pouring. He uses the freezer door to hide what he’s doing, and when the cup is a little less than halfway full, he places it on the counter beside the fridge so he can screw the cap back on the bottle and return it to where it had been before.

Louis went a little overboard on the pouring, admittedly, so he takes the opportunity to grab some cranberry juice from the fridge as well. He adds it into the solo cup, the perfect addition to his vodka, and smiles to himself.

He knows there are straws somewhere in the kitchen, but it’s been a while since he went digging through the drawers, so he doesn’t remember where they are. Louis leaves his cup on the counter and walks around the room, pulling open drawers at random as he searches for the one he needs. 

"Aha,” Louis says happily when he finds the right drawer. He pulls a green straw out of one of the packages and spins on his heels, beyond ready to be drunk off his face on quality alcohol for the first time in too long, but to his dismay, someone else has picked up his cup.

Louis narrows his eyes at the drink thief. 

“Styles,” he says suspiciously.

Harry Styles is a brother in Lambda Chi and unfortunately, he’s also a good friend of Liam and Niall’s. He always seems to be around when Louis is at the house, but the two of them have never really been close. Harry speaks too slowly, lacks control of his limbs, and quite frankly, he’s far too attractive for his own good. It’s always irritated Louis, but when Louis acts like a brat towards him, Harry tends to be amused rather than upset. 

It’s infuriating.

When Louis visualized the rest of his night after stealing some Grey Goose, he did not picture this dumb frat boy’s involvement, so he really needs to resolve this situation quickly.

Louis offers Harry his coldest glare, one that has made stronger men cower in fear, but Harry just smiles. His eyes are bright, face a tiny bit flushed from alcohol, hair in disarray where it’s poking out of the bottom of his snapback, and he looks mouth-wateringly pretty. It’s disarming, really, and whatever other intimidation tactics Louis was going to use are forgotten.

“What’ve you got here,” Harry drawls, voice far too smug for Louis’ taste. His tone makes it clear that he’s not really asking — he knows exactly what Louis has there — and Louis huffs.

“That’s my drink,” he says, answering anyway. He closes the distance between them and snatches the cup out of Harry’s hand before plopping his straw in it. “And I’d appreciate if you’d keep your enormous bear paws off it, thanks.” 

Harry hums, taking a long sip from the beer in his other hand. Louis tries not to get distracted by how shiny his lips look when he lowers it.

“That’s my vodka, you know,” Harry points out, and Louis’ stomach ties itself in knots at record speed. "Liam gave it to me for my birthday this year.”

Louis scoffs and takes a long sip from his straw, not missing how Harry’s gaze lingers on his mouth for far longer than is necessary. 

“Your birthday was eight months ago and that bottle was only like a quarter gone,” Louis says, trying to disguise the wince on his face when he tastes how strong his drink is. “Grey Goose deserves better than to be stored in the freezer for eight fucking months, especially in a frat house. I’m doing you a favor, really.” 

Louis glances down at his drink and takes another sip, but when he raises his gaze again, he feels his heart sink at the look of triumph on Harry’s face.

“So you remember when my birthday is,” Harry says smugly, eyes shining. 

_Fuck,_ Louis thinks, feeling caught out.

“I hate frats,” he says quickly, hoping to distract Harry from that revelation. “I hate frats, and I hate frat parties, so the least you can do is let me drink some expensive vodka to get through it as painlessly as possible.”

Harry’s brows furrow. 

“If you hate frats so much, then why are you here?” He asks. Louis blinks.

“Liam made me come,” he says, taking another large sip from his drink. 

Harry smiles again, that self-satisfied smile that makes Louis want to either punch him in the dick or kiss him senseless. At the moment, the haze of alcohol and embarrassment is making it even more difficult than usual to determine which of those options Louis wants more.

“Liam left with a girl about an hour and a half ago,” Harry says, smirking. “I saw you say goodbye to him. So again, I’ve gotta ask — if you hate frats so much, why are you here?” 

Louis’ mouth drops open in surprise at being called out, but he catches himself quickly and closes it again, slamming the cup in his hand back down on the counter. 

“Good point,” he says haughtily, sending a glare Harry’s way. Without another word, Louis turns and stomps out of the kitchen, heading toward the short hallway that leads to the side door out of the frat house. He left his jacket balled up on the floor of the closet there to avoid it being taken by anyone, and he’s just reached the door to that closet when a hand grips his arm firmly.

Louis knows who the hand belongs to before he sees the person’s face, of course. He’d recognize those ugly rings and the cross tattoo a mile away. He turns around with his metaphorical guns blazing, eyes narrowed, ready and willing to continue the argument if need be.

Harry drops his arm as soon as he turns around and puts his hands up in surrender.

“Lou, I’m sorry,” he says, sounding so genuinely regretful that Louis doesn’t have the heart to berate him for using that nickname. “I was just fucking with you. I don’t....I _really_ don’t want you to leave. And of course you can have some of my vodka. I forgot it was even in there, probably wouldn’t have drank it anyway, and—”

Harry cuts himself off then, of course, because that’s the moment when Louis lunges forward and kisses him. They fall into it far too easily considering they’ve never kissed before, heads tilting, eyes closing, and lips meeting in perfect harmony without hesitation. 

Louis hasn’t drank enough tonight to be able to blame his actions on the alcohol, but if he’s being honest with himself, snapping like this has been a long time coming. There’s only so long a man can resist someone like Harry Styles, and Louis knows that’s what’s been happening. This entire thing, the last two years of Louis’ college career, ever since he first met Harry at the frat house several days after Liam pledged, has been Louis attempting to resist his desire for this particular frat boy.

Harry tastes like some fruity concoction that he probably bribed one of his brothers to make him, or more likely, that they made him of their own volition because they’re all obsessed with him. Louis chases the taste into his mouth, licking in just as Harry places a firm hand on the back of Louis’ neck, sending shivers skittering down his spine.

There’s nobody in the hallway right now, as most people are preoccupied partying in the basement, kitchen, or living room, but Louis knows that if they stay here, it won’t be long before they’re caught.

It’s harder than he expects to pull back, especially when he sees how lush and wet Harry’s lips are, but he somehow manages. Harry looks somewhat shocked by what just happened, but it doesn’t take long for the corner of his mouth to tug up in a pleased smile. Louis rolls his eyes.

“Come upstairs with me,” Harry says, hand finding its way to Louis’ hip and squeezing. 

Louis hesitates for a moment. He knows that if he goes upstairs with Harry, it will signify crossing a threshold that neither of them will be able turn back from. He knows what it will mean.

Harry knows too. He’s always known. 

Louis only has to give him half a nod before Harry’s smile turns into a full on grin, eyes crinkling as he reaches out to grasp Louis’ hand and tug him toward the living room. They drop hands when they actually enter the room, of course, as several of Harry’s brothers are smoking a bowl in there. They may be easily distracted tonight, but they’re unlikely to miss the fact that two sworn enemies are holding hands. 

“Meet me outside my bedroom,” Harry whispers to Louis with a wink before walking over to greet his brothers. Louis gives him a subtle nod and begins making his way up the stairs, knowing that if anyone notices him, they’re likely to assume that he’s trying to find Liam or Niall. He hears Harry asking the boys whether they got the weed from Oli or Calvin this time, just wasting time with small talk until he can follow Louis up the stairs without it being too obvious. 

Louis is slightly offended by Harry’s assumption that he knows which bedroom is his, though of course, Louis does know. This year, Harry shares a room on the second floor with some guy whose name Louis can never be bothered to remember. He doesn’t hang around at the frat house very often, and from what Louis’ heard, he goes home almost every weekend.

Louis leans against the wall beside Harry’s door to wait for him, hoping that he looks somewhat casual just in case one of Harry’s frat brothers comes up to go to bed or get laid and sees him there. After a few minutes have passed, Louis hears footsteps on the stairs and tenses, worried that it might be someone other than Harry, but then a familiar snapback comes into sight.

Louis breathes a sigh of relief, but when Harry walks over and unlocks the door, gesturing for Louis to follow him into the room, he tenses again. His heart seems to be beating three times faster than usual, loud and fast enough that Louis wonders if Harry can hear it as they enter his bedroom.

Harry closes the door behind them and locks it, and Louis swallows hard. He feels more nervous than he has since the first time he kissed a boy in the locker room way back in junior high, and it doesn’t make sense. Louis has kissed more boys than he can remember, and he’s slept with a good handful as well, but here he is, standing in the bedroom of Harry Styles, someone who is just as much of a dork as he is an irritatingly charming frat boy, but he feels like he’s crawling out of his skin. 

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Harry says as he flicks on the light, voice sweet, and Louis glares at him. 

He wants to contradict Harry, maybe make fun of him for making such an outlandish accusation, but he knows his face and body language are giving him away, so he hopes the glare will suffice. Harry raises his eyebrows in amusement before making a motion like he’s zipping his lips.

“That duvet cover is awful,” Louis says to distract him, eyeing the bright pink with distaste and wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. Harry barely spares his duvet a glance, instead simply pulling Louis in and kissing him again, hands grasping his face gently. 

When Harry finally pulls back, Louis is breathless. 

“Guess I’ll have to fuck you well enough that you forget how much you hate it,” Harry says before peeling his shirt off his body, knocking his hat off in the process. His hair is disheveled, curls springy with sweat, but he somehow still looks so good that Louis has to resist pinching himself.

“You can try,” Louis says finally, and Harry grins, taking the permission for what it is. He helps rid Louis of his shirt and jeans, tugging them down enough that Louis can kick them off, and by the time they stumble over toward the offensively bright duvet, they’re both down to their boxers. 

Louis falls back onto Harry’s bed, ready to get this show on the road, but Harry doesn’t follow him down immediately. Instead, he just stands beside his bed for a moment, eyes drinking Louis in like he’s dehydrated, and Louis can say with absolute certainty that no boy has ever looked at him the way Harry is. Harry looks at him like he’s never seen anything better, and though he tries to maintain a poker face, Louis has a feeling his own expression is not much different as he takes in the sight of Harry. 

Harry seems to be waging an internal war between wanting to stare like a creep and wanting to touch, but eventually, the urge to run his hands over Louis’ mostly naked body wins. He lowers himself down onto the bed and falls between Louis’ open legs, mouth meeting Louis’ before Louis even realizes what is happening.

They kiss like that, with their bodies entangled and their mouth open and wet, and after a while, Louis can barely tell where his limbs end and Harry’s begin. He can’t help but push his hips up in a desperate attempt to get some friction against his rapidly hardening dick, and when he does, he can feel the press of Harry’s smile against his mouth yet again.

“Eager?” Harry asks, a trail of saliva stretching between their lips when he pulls back. Louis responds by yanking Harry’s boxers down to his thighs without warning, spitting in his hand, and reaching down to grasp Harry’s cock. 

Harry gasps in surprise, and Louis smirks, glad to finally have the upper hand. 

Louis jerks Harry off slowly, taking in every microexpression that comes across his face, but eventually, Harry seems too overwhelmed to kiss him or even make eye contact. Instead, he buries his face in Louis’ neck and breathes deeply, sending goosebumps across Louis’ skin. 

“You were saying?” Louis asks, voice shaky. Harry bites down on his neck and Louis’ breath catches in his throat. It seems to wake Harry from the stupor that Louis’ hands on his cock put him in, and Harry lifts his head, leaning down to kiss Louis one more time before slinking down Louis’ body. He wiggles out of his boxers and pulls Louis’ down in the process, flinging them off the bed.

“Can you grab that lube, baby?” Harry asks, eyes flicking toward the lube sitting on the crate he uses as nightstand. Louis wants to make fun of Harry for keeping his lube out in the open like that, but then Harry wraps his lips around the head of Louis’ dick and the words fall away.

“Don’t call me that,” Louis manages to say after he tosses the lube toward Harry, but it’s a beat or two too late for a response, and Harry pulls off his dick with a smile. 

“Okay, kitten,” Harry says. Louis really should slap him for that, but then Harry’s lips are back on his cock. After a moment or two of fumbling, Louis also feels Harry’s fingers prodding at his entrance, now wet with lube, and Louis finds that for the first time in his life, words are failing him.

“Y’ready?” Harry asks, pulling off again as one finger circles Louis’ hole, and Louis nods, not trusting himself to speak even if he did manage to find the ability to say “yes.”

When Harry finally presses his finger in, Louis moans, already overwhelmed by the feeling. It’s been far too long since he’s been with anyone, and Harry’s fingers are nice, longer and thicker than Louis’, and it’s clear that he knows how to use them. He opens up Louis as though he’s been doing this his entire life.

Harry licks down the underside of Louis’ dick when he pushes a second finger in beside the first, and Louis’ hands fist the sheets on either side of his body. Harry’s using his free hand to hold Louis’ hips down, and it’s a good thing considering how overwhelmed Louis feels, his attention split between the feeling of hot suction around his cock and the insistent rubbing of Harry’s fingers against his prostate.

“Harry,” Louis gasps out finally as his fingers claw the sheets again. “Get on with it please, I can’t, just—“ 

He can’t find the words to say what he means, but Harry seems to understand well enough. He pulls off and presses a soft kiss to the junction of Louis’ thigh, and when he adds a third finger to finish opening Louis up, Louis is no longer so overwhelmed that he fears he won’t be able to make it through the full event. 

Harry largely avoids his prostate this time, instead just doing what he has to in order to prevent Louis from being in too much pain when his fingers are replaced with his cock, and Louis just tries to focus on his breathing. It’s embarrassing, really, how close to the edge he feels when they haven’t even gotten to the actual sex yet, but when Harry pulls his fingers out and moves up Louis’ body to kiss him on the lips again, Louis can tell he’s in the same boat. 

Harry kisses Louis until he’s pliant, tension melting out of his body, and then reaches over the side of his bed to dig around beneath it. Louis can hear the rustle of Harry reaching inside something, and after a few seconds, his hand returns from under the bed with a condom in it. 

Louis takes the condom from Harry without prompting and rips it open with shaking hands. He lowers it onto Harry’s cock without glancing down, instead maintaining eye contact. There’s something between him and Harry that can’t be explained, an electric current that’s overwhelming them both beyond words, and Louis never thought this would happen with an annoying frat boy in a messy bedroom at the Lambda Chi house, but it is.

When the condom is on, Harry grabs the bottle of lube again and squeezes more onto the fingers of one hand, slicking his cock up a bit more than is necessary just in case, and Louis bites down on his lip when he feels the press of it against his hole.

“Okay, baby?” Harry asks. Louis nods.

When Harry pushes in, Louis wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s a religious experience, mostly because Harry has a big dick and despite all the prep, it still kind of hurts, but it’s something. It’s really something.

He moves slowly, eyes scanning Louis’ face for any and all signs of discomfort, and when Louis winces at one point, Harry immediately halts his movement, expression concerned. 

Louis shakes his head. 

“It’s fine,” he says, leaning up to kiss Harry’s lips. “Keep going. Please.” 

Harry’s still frowning, but he follows Louis’ instructions, pushing in until he’s balls deep. He pauses again, giving Louis a moment to adjust, and Louis inhales and exhales twice before nodding, giving Harry the go ahead. It’s still overwhelming, the feeling of Harry inside him, but the movement helps, and it takes Harry a record low number of thrusts to find Louis’ prostate. 

Louis whimpers when Harry hits it straight on, and he sees Harry’s smirk forming, so he cuts it off by kissing him again. He also pinches Harry shoulder where he’s been clutching at them since Harry positioned himself, but that just makes Harry smile again.

Louis feels like he’s been right on the brink of coming since Harry put his mouth on him, but now that Harry’s inside him for real, it’s too difficult to resist going over the edge. 

“Harry,” Louis says, breaking the kiss, voice desperate. He isn’t quite sure what he’s pleading for, but Harry interprets his tone correctly, shifting his weight to rest on one arm above Louis and using the other to reach down and jerk Louis off quickly. 

Louis’ body can’t seem to decide whether it wants to push up into Harry’s hand or down on Harry’s dick, but in the end, it doesn’t really matter. Harry cock presses against Louis’ prostate as his thumb presses into the slit of his dick on an upstroke, and Louis is done. He comes with an embarrassingly high-pitched whine, painting Harry’s stomach and hand with come, and by the time he tunes back into what’s going on around him, Harry is pressing in and coming with a groan that he tries and fails to muffle against Louis’ neck.

They’re both panting, bodies sweat slick, and as Louis begins to regain feeling in his limbs, he can tell it’s going to be difficult to walk tomorrow. His entire body feels sore, and he can’t even imagine how Harry feels when he pulls out and collapses onto the bed beside Louis. 

Harry pulls the condom off and wipes Louis’ come up with a tissue from his nightstand before tossing them both in the general direction of the trashcan. He misses, of course. Louis rolls his eyes at the incompetence, but then Harry’s lips are distracting him again. Louis feels like he’s addicted to Harry’s mouth in a way he never expected, and it pains him even to pull away long enough to catch his breath.

They make out for long enough that Louis’ eyes begin slipping closed from exhaustion rather than because of the romance and overwhelming nature of it all, so finally, Harry pulls away. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Harry says earnestly, and Louis swallows audibly. 

“I’ll say something nice to you when you turn the lights off,” Louis says when he finds his voice again. “Because I’m ready to go the fuck to bed.” Harry laughs in surprise and rolls out of bed, walking across the room naked to turn the lights off. Louis can’t pretend he doesn’t enjoy the sight. 

When they’re shrouded in darkness again and Harry’s made his way back to the bed, Louis speaks again.

“I guess you’re in the 99th percentile in terms of attractiveness,” Louis says. “Or something. But don’t let it inflate your already excessively large frat boy ego, alright?” 

Harry chuckles again and leans in to kiss Louis quiet.

“I accept that begrudging compliment,” Harry says. “Normally I’d be offended that you didn’t compliment my appearance until the lights were off, but I know it’s just because you don’t want me to see you blush.” 

Louis pinches Harry’s side. He definitely doesn’t blush. Ever.

“You still owe me some of that vodka.” Louis says, as he burritos himself in Harry’s hideous duvet and snuggles his face into Harry’s chest, finally settling down for sleep. He can distantly hear the bass from the party still going on downstairs, but he knows he’ll sleep like the dead regardless. “And just to clarify, this is never going to happen again,” Louis adds firmly. 

Harry presses a kiss to Louis’ forehead and tightens his arm around him.

“Whatever you say, kitten,” Harry says.

Louis should really smack him for that comment and then reiterate that this was a one-time-only mistake, but he’s so warm and comfortable, surrounded by Harry’s blankets and Harry’s body and Harry’s scent, so instead, he just tucks his nose further into Harry’s chest and closes his eyes. 

Louis will make it clear how serious he is in the morning. Really, he will.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure what this fic is, but I do hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please comment and give kudos. 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr [here](http://lads-laddylads.tumblr.com). You can find the photoset for this fic [here](http://lads-laddylads.tumblr.com/post/163871926138/title-cant-fool-me-rating-explicit-word-count). 
> 
> **Note:** I'm not authorizing translations at this time. Also, please do not repost this fic on any other site.


End file.
